


Timeless

by logoki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Consensual Underage Sex, Drarry, Flashbacks, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Underage Sex, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logoki/pseuds/logoki
Summary: As fifth years, Draco and Harry started to really know one another, with sexual exploration thrown into the mix along with pleasant conversation. It was a good year, a pleasant autumn. But come year six, their time together might as well have been forgotten.Now, at twenty-seven each, they both have their own families and their own settled lives. But when they stumble upon each other once again whilst at a party, everything comes flooding back. All the emotions and desire and grief that they sustained throughout the years comes back. But they have families of their own now, there's no way they can be with each other... Or will they just so happen to find a way?





	1. Embers, Cognac and the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so hopefully I'll be able to actually finish this huh? Its been a heckin long minute since I've written well anything that wasn't for school. Please enjoy.

Harry sat, facing Draco with a look of concentration and strain on his face. He looked as if he was deep in thought, like he was perplexed. The light of the fire made it look as if the dark haired man was glowing. Draco felt a pang in his chest as Harry’s green eyes arose to meet his, pain evident in them. 

They sat opposite of one another in velvet armchairs that helped furnish the study of this elaborate home. It was a summer home of the Malfoys, but it felt so much warmer than the mansion. Harry, sighing gently, lifted himself from the seat and walked over to where Draco was seated. He kneeled down so that he was so close to Draco that their noses were practically touching. 

Harry cupped the back of the blond’s head with one of his hands, eliciting a hitch in Draco’s breath. They leaned into one another slowly and deliberately until their lips touched. It was soft and unsure at first, until Draco couldn’t stand it and grabbed the sides of Harry’s face, crushing his lips deeper against his own. This caused the two men to push against the back of Draco’s chair, but neither of them seemed to notice. 

Their mouths parted as they deepened the kiss, Harry wrapping Draco tightly in his arms as the blond raked his hands through his lover’s hair. They shivered against one another, the anticipation and impossibility of this moment taking its toll on both parties. 

The tanned, dark haired man with the bright green eyes detached himself from Draco’s mouth and instead focused on the pale neck that was stretched out before him. His teeth gently grazed the nape of Draco’s neck before latching onto the spot, sucking fervently. 

Draco moaned unceremoniously, feeling his pants grow tight. Suddenly the temperature in the room was far too hot for him to handle. 

“Harry…” he groaned, pulling his dark hair and forcing his head back. 

Harry let go and gave Draco his gaze once again, evergreen eyes fogged over with lust and desire. “Draco,” he whispered huskily, his voice dripping with sex. Harry could tell that Draco was enjoying himself, as was he. They both had to ignore the fear looming above their heads, but how things were going, it seemed as if that wasn’t going to be a problem. 

“Harry, I – I don’t want you to…” Harry started unbuttoning Draco’s shirt, leaning in to pepper kisses along his jawline, “…You to suffer for th – this.” At that Harry chuckled darkly, running his hand up Draco’s now bare chest. 

“I don’t care,” Harry purred into the blond’s ear, “Draco.” When he said his name, Draco had to suppress a moan. Giving in, he clashed his lips against Harry’s once again, a hunger and thirst for something he couldn’t have driving his famished tongue against his lover’s. 

Through passion and heat the two men managed to shed their clothing and stumble to the loveseat that rested between the two chairs the lovers had previously been occupying. Their bare bodies lying against one another, writhing in an ecstasy that could be given by nothing else. With eloquent spellcasting on both men’s parts, Harry was inside of his lover, rhythmically pumping as they both moaned as if in heat. 

Harry couldn’t help but admire the way Draco’s smooth, pale back looked in the light of the fire. He adored the platinum blond hair that was normally neatly manicured, but now was as disheveled as their tryst. He ground into him deeply, hitting all the important areas. At this point Harry knew Draco’s body well. Harry leaned down so that he could talk into the pale, gasping man’s ear. 

“You’re… my… everything,” He growled out, hitting deep with the last word. Draco panted, desperate for release for them both. Harry must have read his mind, because one of the other man’s hands gripped Draco’s length, pumping in time with the thrusts. It didn’t take long for that to do the trick, and Draco was coming with a moan so loud that it cracked. 

Feeling the warmth of his lover’s release in his hands, coupled with the overpowering sound his Draco made in euphoria had Harry spilling over the edge. He came with a strained gasp, emptying himself into the other man. 

As the high of their climax slowly started to come down, Harry collapsed on the floor next to the loveseat, panting heatedly. He didn’t remember seeing Draco cast a cleaning spell on them both, but it was evident that he had. 

They stayed in silence for several moments, trying to catch their breath, trying to listen to the other’s heartbeat. Harry reached up and grabbed Draco’s pale hand. Draco held on tightly, afraid that if he let go, this moment would dissolve into mist, revealing that this all had been a dream. But as he looked into his lover’s bright green eyes, he knew this was real. It scared him to some degree, knowing the consequences of their actions if they got caught. But if this was the only way he could be with Harry, then so be it. 

After about ten minutes of contentedness, they put their clothes back on, fumbling as they did so. The fire had receded down to mere embers as they sat on the loveseat, a glass of cognac in Draco’s hand. Harry was resting his head on Draco’s lap, enjoying the feeling of the other’s slender fingers combing through his hair. 

“How did it come to be like this?” Draco asked, sadness evident in his voice. 

“I don’t see how it could have gone any other way, Draco,” Harry mumbled, remorse in his eyes as he stared up at the man above him. 

Draco hummed in reply, setting down the expensive looking glass of cognac. 

After a moment of charged silence, the blond spoke again, “We could have run away. After the war, after the trial, we could have run away and never looked back.”

“Back then there was no way. Neither of us wanted to leave what we already had. Growing apart and forgetting was just a side effect.”

Draco shook his head gently, a remorseful grin stretched across his face. “Do you remember, Harry? Do you remember everything that happened?”

“Of course I do. We just didn’t know that we were in love with each other. That I love you.” At the mention of love, Draco’s breath was caught in his throat. It was true, Harry loved Draco, and Draco felt the same. But neither of them had had the sense to know it when it could have counted for something. Or so Harry thought, but Draco knew better. 

“I did,” Draco whispered. Harry looked at him, his eyes widened. Draco knew the question on his mind. “I knew I loved you, but I assumed you didn’t feel the same way. Especially after everything that ended up happening,” with this, Draco absentmindedly brought a hand up to trace over the scars on his chest. Harry felt his stomach churn. 

The darker man sat up suddenly, causing Draco to jump. Harry looked into his steely grey eyes, tears threatening to pool over from his own, then wrapped his arms tightly around him, burying his face into the nape of Draco’s neck. Draco felt the tears as they silently fell from Harry’s eyes, the dark haired man trembling with each unknowable sob. 

“I’m…so so sorry Draco,” Harry whispered between quiet tears. Draco could only nod and hold him, having forgiven him long ago for the sectumsempra curse. 

When Harry calmed down, Draco resumed threading his fingers through his lover’s hair. They stayed that way, looking into the dying embers when Harry spoke, his voice hoarse,

“That all seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”

“Well, it was,” Draco responded gently.

“I can still remember it clearly, fifth year, autumn, the room of requirement.” They both chuckled softly at that.

“Yes, I remember,” Draco whispered, his voice melancholy with nostalgia, “I could never forget.”

///  
12 years earlier:

Draco dragged his hand along the railing of the staircase, hurrying so it wouldn’t change with him on it. His thoughts a little bit scattered, he approached the top, his footsteps a clear sound on the stone steps. Eventually his mind settled on Potter, he thought the name with disdain. He hated him, truly utterly and deeply. Or at least that’s what he’s tried to convince himself. Yes he definitely hated Potter, with his hero complex and evergreen eyes and his outrageously unkempt black hair. 

So caught in all the reasons why Potter was deplorable, that Draco didn’t even notice where he was. As he started to round a corner, he spotted a familiar head of black, shaggy hair. Potter. He was looking around cautiously before a door appeared and he entered it. Draco’s eyes widened. So that’s where Potter and his herd got off to. 

Not thinking about getting the others, he ran up to the door before it could vanish again, and slipped inside the spacious room. Cool air brushed against his face. It looked to be a dueling room of some sorts, with mirrors and platforms scattered around the enormous area. It seemed far too big of a space from how it looked in the corridor. The doors quickly shut tight behind him, causing him to jump.  
Harry was glaring at him, wand drawn and ready. They were the only two in room. “Why are you here, Malfoy?” The words were spoken with venom. 

Draco rolled his eyes, smirking in his signature fashion, “Are you really that surprised that I found where you and your lot disappear to, Potter?” Draco had drawn his wand as well, readying it in case Potter struck. 

“You fucking weasel,” Potter hissed, “I would never imagine that even you would work for Dolores Umbridge. Although I can’t say I'm all that surprised.” Harry stealthily cast the disarming spell, which Draco blocked in the nick of time. 

“I don’t give a damn about Umbridge,” Draco bit back, snarling, “I just love watching you crash and burn.” 

“And why would that be, huh? Because I didn’t shake your hand and agree to be a snide prick like you? That was five bloody years ago! Why are you so ill?”

Draco’s teeth were clenched, annoyance evident on his face, “Like you really don’t know, Potter. Perfect Potter, always the golden boy.”

“Bullshit,” Harry huffed, sending a hex Draco’s way, which was avoided with ease. 

Draco noticed this, “Getting sloppy with our hexes are we? How do you plan to defeat anyone if you can’t even land one hi…” Before Draco could finish his sentence, he was thrown onto his back by a spell Harry had cast silently. The wind was knocked out of him, and he fell on is back, groaning. 

Harry briskly walked up and snatched the blond’s wand, which had landed several feet from the slytherin himself. “What was that now?” He asked with a smug face. 

Draco sat up, glaring at him. Without thinking, he tackled Harry’s legs, sending the other boy down and evening the playing field. Until Draco managed to steal back his wand from Harry’s possession.  
Gasping, he stood up and laughed as much as he could have, aiming his wand directly at Harry, “You dense-headed prick, should’ve finished me while you could have. But that’s a gryffindor for you, always have to have the last word.” 

Harry glared at Malfoy, daring him to throw a hex his way, “It doesn’t even matter if you tell Umbridge about this room, you lot won’t be able to get in.”

“Who said I’m going to tell Umbridge?” 

Harry faltered, “Well, I just assumed that…”

“Well you assumed wrong Potter,” Draco drawled, his smirk back in place, “It’s much more fun to keep at this game.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the blond, suspicion evident in his eyes. He didn’t trust Malfoy one bit, but there wasn’t all that much he could do to stop him if he decided to tell Umbridge. 

“Piss off,” Harry growled through clenched teeth. At that Draco laughed hollowly. 

“Listen Potter, you can believe anything that you want to, but I meant what I said. But I might decide to eventually.” He smirked maliciously at Harry, backing towards the door with his want raised. When he reached the doors, he swiftly opened them and slithered out, letting out a sigh of relief. He smiled to himslef, thinking that the situation at hand was finally leaning in his favor. 

When Malfoy left the Room of Requirement, Harry let out a breath that he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. What in the bloody hell just happened? Before he could feel anything else, anxiety overtook him: what if Malfoy was going to tell Umbridge anyway? What if everything was for nothing? Why had Malfoy said he wouldn’t tell in the first place? Harry scowled at the idea of doing anything for the blond brat, much less whatever the ferret chooses. 

“Prick,” Harry grumbled to himself, turning to carry on practicing his defensive magic, as he had done before being rudely interrupted. But there was still one question that continued to linger on Harry’s mind: Why did the room even let Malfoy in in the first place?


	2. Paper Cranes, Breezeways and a Green Apple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya no smut in this chapter, sorry. Gotta develop plot for the smut to really pack a punch. Mmmm. Enjoy.

Potions class was near misery. Harry could hardly concentrate thanks to the pair of stormy grey eyes watching him from the back of the class. Malfoy and several of his lot had been chattering lowly for a while, Snape conveniently managing to ignore them. 

Harry tried to concentrate on the work before him, but with all that happened with Malfoy the other day mixed with his low voice chatting non-stop with his friends, Harry felt he could feasibly submit himself to a psych ward. Hermione could tell Harry was agitated, and cast a glaring look behind her at Malfoy. 

“Try to ignore them Harry,” she whispered good naturedly, “If they manage to get a rise out of you they’ll never stop.”

“Miss Granger,” Snape whirled around to stare directly at Hermione, “If you deem it necessary to disrupt my class with your chatter then you may excuse yourself. Ten points from Gryffindor.” Hermione fumed silently after that, nearly breaking her quill as she returned to her notes. 

Harry looked apologetically at Hermione before his thoughts were brought back to Malfoy by something fluttering over to his desk. It was a paper crane. He looked back to see Malfoy looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, a calculating look on his pale face. The chattering amongst his group had diminished as Harry turned back around. He unfolded the crane to see a note: 

‘Scared, Potter?’

Harry seethed, crumbling up the paper and shoving it in his robe’s pocket. He refused to turn around and look at Malfoy. He really just wanted to hit him. 

When potions was finished, Harry, Hermione and Ron walked off towards the stairs, making it a point to ignore Malfoy and his posse. 

“Was it just me, or was Malfoy a lot more of a git today than usual?” Ron mumbled as they headed up the stairs. 

“It definitely wasn’t just you, Ron,” Hermione replied cooly, crisply contained irritation evident in her voice, “He’s becoming insufferable, and Snape’s even worse!” 

They continued to lament about how unfair the whole potions situation was, strolling along the corridor towards their next class. 

“Malfoy weasled his way into the Room of Requirement last night,” Harry whispered as the conversation started to come to a lull. His friends stopped, staring at him with gaping mouths, concern written sloppily across both of their faces. 

“And you didn’t think to tell us until now, huh?” Ron exclaimed as quietly as he could to avoid inquisitive ears.

“Well I haven’t really had a chance to tell anyone now have I?”

Hermione huffed with indignation, “Then just tell us now! What happened Harry? Is Malfoy going to tell Umbridge about the Room? How much danger are we in?”

“I – well I…” Harry stammered, unsure if there was any real danger or not, “I’m not entirely sure.”

“How could you not be sure? It’s bloody Malfoy we’re talking about! The git who would love nothing more than to see you in deep shit.” Ron was turning pink, his breathing becoming unsteady with anxiety. 

“He said he wasn’t going to tell!”

“And we’re just supposed to trust his word? Harry, are you listening to yourself?” Hermione was quick to retort, her hands tightening around the books she was holding. 

Harry huffed, knowing that they were right. He was tired of having to constantly watch his back. He was tired of the fear that was swelling around the school. The fear that had been building ever since he’d arrived to Hogwarts. He was tired of of the paranoia. 

“Then what are we supposed to do about it?” Harry asked with exasperation, his demanding gaze cutting from one friend to the other. 

The trio was silent for several moments, the intensity of the situation weighing down on them. Finally, Hermione sighed, “We’ll have to think of something. But it will have to be after charms. Malfoy hasn’t told Umbridge yet, so we’ve still got time to sort this out.” 

Harry and Ron looked at one another, shrugging. Ron looked agitated and uncomfortable, the anxiety of the situation undoubtedly making him feel sick. In moments such as theseHarry was glad that he wasn’t Ron. 

As his two friends continued on their way throughout the now nearly empty corridor, Harry absentmindedly put his hands in his robe pockets. Upon feeling the crumpled up piece of paper, he remembered the paper crane. ‘Scared, Potter?’ Harry glowered at the thought of Malfoy taunting him. Why did the prick even give a damn enough to torment him? Deciding that he didn’t care, Harry sighed and caught up with his friends. 

///  
Draco lounged across one of the armchairs that furnished the Slytherin common room, making sure to take up as much space as possible. He wondered how Potter had liked his little note? It may have been subtle, but Draco believed that subtly was much more intimidating than going into vivid details. 

“What are you looking so smug about?” Pansy drawled, looking over the book she had been reading. 

Draco sighed dramatically, “I don’t think I’ll tell you, Pansy.” He was good at this game because he played it quite frequently. He always seemed to be fishing for his friends’ curiosity. 

The dark haired girl groaned and closed her book. She stared pointedly at Draco, familiar with this game of his. “Ok Draco, you don’t have to tell me. In fact, it would probably be better if you didn’t. I’m simply dreadful at keeping secrets, as you know.” She donned an expression of mock sympathy, putting more whine than was natural into her voice. Hoping that Draco picked up on her sarcasm. 

He did not. 

“Yes you’re truly the worst at it. Which is why I’m not going to tell you a single thing. This is something that absolutely mustn’t be spread about.” Draco seemed to be quite pleased with himself. Until Blaise spoke, 

“Yeah, that you’ve been secretly in love with Potter for years.” The deadpan in Blaise’s voice made the comment all the more entertaining. Pansy doubled over on the couch from laughter, snorting every now and again. Draco felt a burning cold shock radiate throughout his body in a matter of seconds before regaining his composure. 

“Why on earth would I be in love with Potter of all people? I despise him, and I thought that much was obvious.”

“Sure you ‘despise’ him, but he’s basically all you bloody well talk about. I’d even wager that this secret you’re dangling over Pansy’s head is about Potter too. You’re not sneaky, mate,” Blaise said cooly, returning to his homework. 

Draco glowered at Blaise, desperate to retort with a scathing remark, but he was having a difficult time finding one. Pansy was finally starting to collect herself. 

“Oh,” she said airily, coming down from the laughter high, “Oh that would be rich. And It’d make a fuck load of sense, too. The lengths you go to… brilliant.” 

With his confidant mood diminished, Draco sat up, masking his unease with a calculating snarl. “Are you quite finished?”

“I could go on with that for quite a while,” Pansy smiled deviously at the blond, “But for your sake I’ll say that I’m done.” 

Crossing his legs, Draco let out a small breath of relief. Until Pansy added, “For now.” He glared at her, but she was already back to reading her book. He groaned internally, turning to face out the windows of the common room. They looked out into the Great Lake that Hogwarts was built next to. It was always relaxing to stare at whatever happened to be passing the thick glass panes by at the moment, swimming lazily. 

He tried not to think about what just happened. He didn’t want to confront what Blaise had said. Potter? Love? What a load of tripe. He loathed Potter, everyone knew that. He’d always loathed Potter. That’s why he could never stop thinking about him; that’s why he took every opportunity he could to mock him, to get a rise out of him. He sighed. ‘Draco, you’re smarter than this,’ he thought to himself. He got up and walked to the common room door. He needed some fresh air. 

///  
Harry walked down the hallway, eyes to the ground and lost in thought. He didn’t know what to do about the whole Malfoy situation. He knew that he couldn’t trust the slytherin, it would be maddness to even consider it, but what other option did he have? It wasn’t like he could kidnap him and hold him hostage until the end of the term. He couldn’t murder him and feed his corpse to the giant squid in the lake. They’d know it was him. Although Harry enjoyed thinking about it, admittedly. 

Feeling a gentle gust of wind, Harry looked up to to discover that during his thought-filled wanderings, he had somehow managed to find himself in the breezeway. He paused and leaned against the stone side, staring out over the scenery. The wind blew his dark hair back from his face, exposing his scar for all to see, but no one was there. 

“Enjoying the view, Potter?” The serenity that Harry felt was rudely destroyed by the cutting voice that Harry was all too familiar with. Malfoy. Harry didn’t even want to turn to face him as the blond approached. 

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry groaned, resting his head in a hand. 

He felt the presence of the other boy next to him then. He felt gray eyes boring into the side of his head. He felt Malfoy’s desperation for Harry to look at him. Harry decided not to give the git the satisfaction. 

When Draco didn’t get the attention he so sought, he remarked, “I could help you get closer to whatever it is you’re admiring. I could just shove you over and you’d be all that much nearer.” He paused, giving time for Potter to react, which he did not, “It would be easy, Potter. No one would know.” 

“I’d drag you down with me, Malfoy, don’t think I wouldn’t,” Harry bit back, his wild, shaggy black hair falling back into place as the wind died down. He cut his eyes to Malfoy, who was still staring at him. For some reason, this encounter didn’t feel like any other one Harry faced with Malfoy. There didn’t seem to be any malicious intent. But Harry didn’t let his guard down. 

Draco chuckled darkly, moving ever closer to Potter, “That’s what you’d like to think isn’t it? But I’d make it so quick that you wouldn’t have time to even think.”

Harry finally turned to face his rival, making the other boy jump slightly. He was too tired to deal with Malfoy and his mind games. “So is this it then? Your grand plan? To toss me over the breeze way? I have to say, Malfoy, I’m a little disappointed. I was expecting something far more creative.”

The other boy looked into Harry’s eyes, a pleasant emotion swirling behind them. After a moment of charged eye contact, Draco breathed airily, lowly, “Then pray tell, how would you go about murdering your rival?” A hint of a smile pressed against his lips.

“Chop you up and feed you to the giant squid of course. It’s an incredibly dignified death for an incredibly dignified, self-important git. Someone just like you, Malfoy,” Harry deadpanned, sticking his chin towards the other boy in a sort of challenge. 

Draco felt a blooming warmth in his chest. He didn’t recognize it for what it was, but its presence fueled him to push further. 

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble for the infamous Harry Potter to go through all on his own. And just think of the mess! I’m not sure your eyes would be able to handle that much blood.”

“I suppose, as far as my eyes handling blood goes, it’s all a matter of who the blood’s coming from. From you Malfoy? My eyes would have no problem handling it.” 

“You wound me, Potter!”

Harry chuckled as Malfoy draped himself against a column. Yes, this interaction was definitely different. There wasn’t any real aggression on either of their parts. Harry almost wished it could be like this more often. This thought scared him, and Harry reminded himself that Malfoy wasn’t to be trusted. ‘He could be trying to get your guard down. He could be trying to get you not to suspect him. Trying to get your trust.’ With these thoughts and others suddenly taking back control of his mind, he quickly decided to sober up. 

Draco could tell that something changed in the conversation he and Potter were having. It had been dare he say, pleasant. And then Potter suddenly grew rigid, glaring at Draco. Wasn’t Potter just grinning and bantering along with him? The Slytherin sighed ruefully, understanding that the moment of civility was gone. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry spat the words, his tone cold. 

“I wanted to get some fresh air,” Draco explained tiredly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Rubbish.”

“Excuse me?”

“I got your bloody note, Malfoy!” Harry pulled out the paper crane note given to him that day during potions. “ ‘Scared, Potter?’? You think I don’t know what that means?!”

“What does it mean then?”

“That… that you’re plotting something! You’re always plotting something.” 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in an exasperated manner, groaning. “If I’m always plotting something, then why would I feel the express need to give you a note about it on this certain instance?”  
“Because you’re taunting me! You want me to constantly be one edge! Worried about if you’ll tell Umbridge or not!” 

“I think you’re giving me too much credit, Potter.” 

“Oh am I?”

“Yes, in fact I think you are,” Draco snapped, growing irritated with where the conversation had gone, “Contrary to what you’ve convinced yourself to be true, I don’t sit in my room all day, wringing my hands and thinking up ways to unnerve you. I really don’t give a damn about Umbridge or that bloody room you slink off to.” 

“Or so you’d like me to think.”

“For FUCK’S sake, Potter!” Draco threw his hands up in exasperation, causing Harry to take up a defensive stance whilst reaching for his wand. 

Draco took one look at Harry and sighed dejectedly, allowing his shoulders to slump ever so slightly. “Look,” He began, “I’m sure that I can understand where your paranoia is coming from. But I still think you’re being a touch ridiculous.”

“How is practicing caution ridiculous again? Unless you’re trying to get me to drop my guard for your own personal agenda. Full offence intended, Malfoy, I don’t bloody trust a word out of your mouth.”  
Dejected, the blond stepped back. He realized that there wasn’t any real way that he could get through to Potter without time. He really wasn’t planning on telling Umbridge anything, but obviously Potter would rather excessively worry than believe him. Brilliant. 

“Fine Potter. Enjoy your paranoia,” Draco turned briskly on his heels and strode down the breezeway and back inside the doors of Hogwarts. 

Harry blinked, not sure if the interaction he’d just had with Malfoy was real. He felt like he’d done something wrong, even though every logical part of his brain told him otherwise. He’d never had a reason to trust Malfoy before, so why let himself be tricked into starting now? No, this whole thing was a touch too unbearable for Harry’s taste. Still, there was something that was bothering Harry that he couldn’t quite place. It was as if he was forgetting something that he didn’t even know about. 

With resignation, the dark haired boy turned back to the horizon in front of him. He noticed that although the sky in the far distance was bright and beautiful, the sky above was silvery grey. He thought of Malfoy’s eyes, and how they were almost the same shade as the sky he was looking at now. Almost. Malfoy’s eyes were so versatile, meaning namely that they changed with his mood. When he was seething with bitter anger, they were pale and burning. When he closed himself off, they were cold and calculating. And then, Harry saw, just now, a shade of Malfoy’s eyes that he never had before. It was as if they were swimming and alight. Harry decided subconsciously that he liked those eyes of Malfoy’s the best. 

///  
Draco stormed down the corridors, heading to no place in particular. He felt very strange. His chest felt tight, as if it were being constricted; his heart wasn’t right either, pulsing with bullets of pain. But at the same time, he knew this feeling was good. His body felt like it would explode, but he was undeniably excited. About what? Well, Draco had an idea, but he wasn’t extremely fond of it. 

Eventually Draco ended up back in the Slytherin common room, but this time he found that it was empty. Everyone was probably at dinner or something along those lines. 

The boy huffed, flinging himself onto the couch that Pansy had been sitting on earlier. He reached up into a basket that rested on an end table and pulled out a green apple. His favorite. He took a big, crunchy bite, savoring the juices that trickled down his chin. 

Admittedly, he relished in being alone at times like these. Here, he didn’t have to worry about blemishing the carefully constructed image he had. He could act however he wanted to. Honestly, it was always in these moments that he felt most reliable within himself. 

So, much to Draco’s chagrin, this was the perfect time to address the issue causing his stomach to flip. Harry fucking Potter. ‘Why does it always have to be about Potter?’ Draco thought with a moan, taking another bite of apple. 

He hated that he’d enjoyed the banter the two of them shared on the breezeway so much. He hated that he wanted more than anything to mess with Potter’s untameable hair as it was blown by the wind. He hated the way he fell into those evergreen eyes, how they electrified a part of him that he didn’t know existed. Draco had never felt like this with anyone but Potter. And probably the most horrifying part to Draco was that he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when these feelings started. He’d spent so much time shoving down this revelation, that he’d more than likely forgotten about it. 

It wasn’t a good sensation, realizing his true feelings about someone he so publicly despised. Draco wouldn’t dare let himself say the words aloud, fearing that doing so would invoke some kind of wrath that would cause his feelings to be real. But they already were real. 

Finishing the apple, Draco pondered what to do about the situation at hand. Potter. Would he act on how he felt about the Gryffindor? ‘No,’ he thought to himself, shaking his head woefully. There was no way that Potter would even fathom reciprocating his feelings. This whole private parade of anguish Draco was feeling would do best to be pushed down and locked away. He could do that, he could do that well. He’d been doing it for years. But, now that he knew about his feelings, he had a hunch that they wouldn’t be that easy to suppress anymore.


	3. Cat Eyes and a House on Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoo Whee Momma. Have y'all tried the new(ish) orange/vanilla coke? I like it. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Spice at the end. Enjoy perhaps. Yes?

It had been several days since the conversation between Harry and Malfoy on the breezeway, and Harry was too busy with the DA meetings as well as homework to really remember the exchange at all. The only time he would allow his mind to go there was when he was trying to sleep at night. He didn’t enjoy this in the slightest. Often, the anxiety of the whole situation would keep him up at night, and he’d only manage to get 2-3 hours of sleep. It wasn’t ideal, but really, what did he expect?

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked, her drink halfway to her mouth. 

Harry grumbled something unitelligable as he looked suspiciously around the dining hall. Why was everyone so loud this morning? Why was the sun so bright? Why did he get out of bed?? 

“Don’t think he’s been sleepin’ too well, Hermione,” Ron muttered, his mouth full of breakfast, “It’s been nonstop tossin’ and turnin’ for the past several nights.”

Hermione sniffed, outwardly disapproving of Ron’s table manners, or rather, lack there of. “Well obviously he’s been having trouble sleeping. Do you see how out of it he is? He looks like a ghoul.”

“Come on Hermione, I may be ugly, but I’m not that ugly,” Harry sighed, absentmindedly popping a grape into his mouth. 

“You need to get some sleep,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry’s previous comment.

“I can’t. I’m anxious.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged understanding looks, and turned back to Harry, sympathy on their faces. Harry felt quite uncomfortable. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was pity. 

“Maybe a sleeping potion would help?” the witch suggested. 

Harry thought about it. Honestly, it was a solid idea. He sighed warily and nodded his head, “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to try at least.” 

Satisfied, Hermione turned the conversation to the upcomming paper due in Charms class, which was essentially a cue for Harry to zone out. It was then that he noticed the familiar sensation of someone staring at him. Focusing on finding who it was, he landed on the Slytherin table, where it looked like Malfoy had quickly turned his head. Harry squinted his eyes suspiciously. He was always suspicious when it came to Malfoy. 

He didn’t particularly want to think about the banter they had shared in the breezeway, but it wormed its way into his thoughts as his eyes glazed over. Obviously the lack of sufficient sleep was getting to him. 

There was a deep part of him that somewhat cherished that short-lived moment of pleasant jabbing, but Harry refused to believe that that was how he truly felt. He ignored the fact that the conversation didn’t feel tense or suffocating, that the alarm bells weren’t going off in his head. Until he told them to, of course. To Harry, that moment was impossible. He didn’t want to know that his rival, this boy he’d known since first year, that he’d despised since first year, could have a pleasant side to him. It was easier just to make himself believe that Malfoy was pure evil, through and through. 

Harry forced himself out of this train of thought by downing his glass of pumpkin juice just as his friends were gathering up their bags, preparing to head to their first class. He already knew that it was going to be a rather long day. 

///  
The Slytherin common room was, on this particular day, extremely noisy. There were younger kids shrieking about one thing or another, and some of the older ones decided it was a good idea to start a drinking game. Although, being a Friday after class was done, Draco didn’t see the real harm here. 

Pansy had tried to get Draco to join in on whatever drunken maddness was taking place, but he declined, using unfinished homework as an excuse to escape to the library. It wasn’t that Draco didn’t enjoy his fair share of intoxicated endeavors every now and then, it was just that he didn’t trust his drunken tongue during this particualr time. Especially after all the feelings he could barely contain under a sober mind. And seeing everyone else have fun with whatever booze they managed to scrounge up just put him in a foul mood, so he decided the best course of action was to just vacate the entire Slytherin dorm. 

The library was understandably not very busy. No student was going to be studying or doing homework on a Friday unless the term was coming to an end, or they were Granger. Sighing, Draco walked past shelf after shelf, heading towards his favorite study area near the back of the library, where the chance that someone would interrupt him was slim. 

Before Draco could properly react to what he was seeing, his stomach did a little summersault as he saw a familiar mop of black hair resting on the table Draco was aiming for. He smirked to himself, forgetting most everything else around him. 

Draco walked briskly up to the table, and slammed his books down next to Potter, causing the boy to jump up in terror. Draco was trying unsuccessfully to hold in his laughter. 

Harry, panicking slightly, whipped his head up only to be met with Malfoy barely containing his laughter. The black haired boy’s eyes narrowed, annoyance spreading across his face. 

“Rough night, Potter?” Malfoy drawled, a teasing smirk plastered onto his face. 

“Like it’s any of your business,” Harry snapped back, making room for Malfoy to sit nevertheless. 

When Draco saw Harry moving his things aside for him, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread throughout his entire body. He wanted to smile, but kept himself in check enough to sustain a cool indifference on his face. 

He slid into the seat next to Potter, casually glancing over to see what he was working on. All Draco saw was Harry’s robes bunched up into a makeshift pillow. He chuckled. 

Harry noticed and responded in a defeated voice, “This is the quietest place I could have gone. Everyone’s so loud in the common room.” Malfoy nodded, seeming to understand. 

“That’s why I’m here too. Far too many distractions in the Slytherin dorm for my taste.” Malfoy began to spread some papers out along with the books he’d slammed down to wake Harry up. 

“Are you positive you’re not stalking me?” 

Malfoy looked at him with a strange look on his face and chuckled good-naturedly under his breath.

“I’m quite sure I’m not stalking you. Not like you’d believe me either way though.” 

Harry scoffed, “And can you blame me?”

“Hmm. No, I suppose not,” Malfoy mused as he opened a herbology book and began to jot things down.

Harry looked at him with a sort of fascination. Malfoy didn’t look so snide and evil today. What changed? Harry took care to notice the sharp point of Malfoy’s nose, and the way part of his blond hair fell over his forehead. His skin was very pale and smooth, almost as if it was porcelain. Strange how Harry had never really bothered to look at Malfoy with anything more than contempt before now.

“I can leave if you need to study,” Harry heard himself say without really registering it. 

“Hm?” Malfoy hummed, turning towards Harry, “Oh please, as if I could be so easily distracted by the likes of you. I’m Draco Malfoy, Potter. I can study with you here believe it or not.” 

Harry was too tired to get pissy with Malfoy. Instead, he elected the best choice of action would be to once again fall asleep using his bunched up robes as a makeshift pillow. 

Draco was so invested in the work he was finishing up that he hadn’t noticed that Potter had fallen asleep until he heard gentle snoring coming from beside him. He looked over and saw his rival sleeping, his head and arms tangled in the fabric of his robe. Draco let out a content huff of air and smiled gently. ‘So much for never letting your guard down around me, huh?’ Draco thought, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

He took this moment to soak up details of Potter’s sleeing figure. His features were much softer as he slept, unable to glare bitterly at Draco. Potter snored lightly again. His hair was always such a mess. Draco wondered if the boy even owned a comb or a brush. Probably not. 

Gently, Draco leaned forward and brushed some of Potter’s fringe out of his face, catching a glimpse of the famous scar that Voldemort had left. He felt his breath catch in his throat. The Slytherin wondered if the scar ever hurt Potter. He didn’t really want to find out. 

Snapping back to reality, Draco sat up, cleared his throat quietly and got back to work. 

Harry dreamt of someone faceless. He dreamt that someone faceless guided him out of a dark undergrowth into a field, where trees bearing sweet-smelling blossoms grew. He laid down under one of the trees, and the faceless person joined him, gently grasping his hand. The faceless person’s hands were pale and cool, refreshing in the warmth of the dream. The being came closer to Harry until it was leaning over him. For some reason Harry didn’t feel threatened at all, in fact, he couldn’t feel more safe. He closed his eyes and felt the chilling hands of the being brush the hair away from his forehead, gently grazing over his scar. His breath hitched, and as he opened his eyes, more details started to appear on the being’s face. Whoever it was looked so familiar, yet Harry couldn’t place it. Right when the details were becoming clear, Harry awoke with a start. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry looked around, trying to gather his bearings and remember where he was. Ah, the library. Suddenly Harry remembered Malfoy, and he jerked his head to the side, but Malfoy was no longer there. How many hours had Harry been sleeping?

He yawned, just in time to see Malfoy coming out from behind a bookcase, flipping through a thick looking book. 

Draco looked up, hearing the yawn from Potter, “Oh you’re awake.”

“How long was I out?”

“Three hours give or take. It’s around nine now.”

“Shit Malfoy!” Potter groaned, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Draco blinked at the disheveled boy. He tried not to laugh at the sight of him, glasses askew, hair messier than normal. “I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to.” 

“Bloody thoughtful of you. I could have been comatose and you wouldn’t have tried to wake me up.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco replied, “Oh please, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not as if you were asleep for more than 24 hours. It was a cat nap, you’re fine.”

Potter huffed, brow furrowed. It was at this that Draco’s face adopted a smug expression as he added, “And you were snoring, so I knew you weren’t comatose.” Potter actually blushed a light pink with embarrassment, avoiding looking at Draco altogether. 

“Sod off Malfoy,” Potter grumbled, but there was no real anger in his voice. This made Draco smile. 

“Or what, Potter?”

“Or…” Harry thought a moment, his brain still trying to recover from the nap, “I’ll turn your teeth into a necklace..?”

For some reason, Draco thought this was obscenely funny, and let out a tilted, piercing laugh that no doubt disrupted the entire library. He caught himself and quickly covered his mouth with his hands, trying hard to subdue his laughter. 

Harry jumped when Malfoy had his outburst of laughter. ‘I didn’t know that my threats were so hilarious’ he thought warmly.

When Malfoy finally started to calm down enough to speak, he responded: “If you somehow manage to get all my teeth and turn them into a necklace, then I’ll just glue your eyelids shut in retaliation. It’s only fair, you know. And you won’t need your glasses anymore either!” Harry allowed himself a wry smile. 

“But if you did that, the world would no longer be blessed with my incredible eyes. Really, you’d just be damning yourself, Malfoy.” Harry shook his head and looked cooly at Malfoy, an easy smile spreading over the Gryffindor’s mouth. 

Draco felt his heart beating in his throat. Was…was Potter actually flirting with him? He chuckled almost nervously, trying to collect himself. 

“Speak for yourself; you’d never get to see the look on my face when I best you. I think that’s the truest tragedy you’d be facing.”

“You? Best me?” Potter’s laughter rolled off of his tongue as he looked at Draco with mischevious eyes, like that of a cat about to tackle its mate, “I’d like to see you try.” Draco almost felt as if the room was closing in around him. He didn’t like this feeling, but at the same time he was addicted to it. Why did this feel so strange? Did Potter know?? How could he possibly know? Nothing made sense but everything made sense. Draco started to breath a bit faster. 

“I…” he started, feeling his control over his emotions start to slip away, “I’ve got to go.” Draco quickly gathered his things as Potter blinked, a look of confusion on his face. 

“Wha…”

“Really Harry I’ve already stayed too long here, babysitting you.” Draco felt his voice shake. So preoccupied was he, that he didn’t even notice that he’d called Potter by his first name. 

As steadily as he could, Draco stood up, bag in tow, and bid Potter a hasty goodbye as he walked briskly out of the library. 

Harry stared at the spot that Malfoy had been sitting in only seconds ago. What had just happened? He had actually had an enjoyable moment with Draco Malfoy, and nothing terrible happened. Until Malfoy suddenly looked like he was going to puke, and darted off. 

Pride swelled within Harry’s chest as he thought about how the banter between the two had gone. He’d actually managed to win a conversation with the Slytherin king himself. It was such a moment of secret happiness, that Harry almost forgot about Malfoy casually calling him by his first name. Strangely, he didn’t mind it. 

He hated to admit it, but he was slowly starting to consider Malfoy a begrudging acquaintance. Not much, but still leaps and bounds better than mortal nemeses.

Thinking back to the look of shock and excitement in those steely grey eyes of Malfoys as Harry retaliated confidently caused a bloom of warmth to blossom in his chest. His stomach felt strange too. Almost like the proverbial butterflies one feels in the stomach when thinking of or seeing one’s crush. 

Harry’s eyes widened. No. Ohhhh no. Malfoy as an acquaintance? Sure. Malfoy as a friend? Doubtful. But Malfoy as a crush? There were multiple layers of wrong in that. First off, Harry wasn’t gay. Second, this was Draco fucking Malfoy! One of the worst people Harry knew! No sodding way. 

Yes, there was absolutely no way that these conditions were caused by Malfoy, unless he hexed Harry or something. Maybe he’d stop by the medical wing and see if he’d contracted some sort of illness. There was one thing that Harry knew, and that was that he didn’t feel good. 

Pissed off and groaning, Harry gathered his things and made his way up to the Gryffindor dorms, mentally preparing himself for that night’s DA meeting. 

///  
Draco walked briskly through the corridors, heading towards the boys’ bathroom on the second floor. It was the same floor as Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, so typically people forgot about it. And Draco needed to be alone. 

He arrived in the bathroom and slammed the door shut, calling out to see if anyone else was in there. Getting no response, Draco jammed the bathroom door closed, taking extra precautions to make sure he wouldn’t be interrupted. 

His pants were getting tighter with each twitch of his member. Draco gasped delicately, palming himself over the fabric of his trousers. The way that Potter – that Harry had looked at him earlier was almost too much for Draco. It was as if Harry was a wolf fixing to devour him. There was something deliciously predatory about the way Harry’s eyes had gazed at him. 

“Pathetic,” Draco groaned as he unzipped his pants, “It was one fucking look… and I’m like this. Fuck, Harry.” 

The blond spit into his hand, using it as makeshift lubrication as he stroked up and down his shaft. Draco let his head roll back as he grazed over the head with his thumb, only to come down with vigor. He bucked into his own hand, gasping. 

In his mind, he was with Harry. There was no animosity between the two of them, only a desire to devour, to indulge, to burn and to break. Draco could almost feel Harry’s hands on his bare body, pulling him into a passionate, vengeful kiss. He felt one of Harry’s hands cup the back of his neck whilst the other scratched at his back. Draco whimpered, increasing the speed of his hand. He could feel Harry’s lips trail from his mouth to his jaw, nipping and licking. He could feel the warmth that accompanied the Gryffindor’s touch. Such a hot, wet sensation, the feeling of Harry’s tongue.

Without warning, Draco came with a sharp intake of breath and a low, drawn out, “Shit!” It felt, incredible. 

Rubbing one out was more difficult than one would think at Hogwarts, especially since no one got their own private room. Draco realized this was the first time he’d done this in a while. He breathed slowly, trying to control the shake in his intakes and exhales. After a moment of gentle ecstasy, the come-down of an orgasm, Draco cleaned himself off and tucked himself back into his pants. He rearranged his clothing and hair to look presentable, like he hadn’t just come harder than he ever had thanks to thoughts of Potter.

Potter. After cleaning himself up, Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror, staring into stormy grey eyes. His eyes looked like the smoke from a house on fire. The impossibility of his feelings hit him full force and he trembled ever so slightly. ‘It… it isn’t so bad,’ Draco tried to convince himself, rubbing a hand down his face. At least he had these fantasies, these private moments with just himself. 

He sighed, giving himself one last look in the mirror before gathering his things and walking out of the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you there was spice at the end. Like Kung Po Chicken. Mmmm.


	4. Under Stars and Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always update like, super late at night (or super early in the morning teehee). I know this one's a little short, but like, the next one's a doozy. So I guess hold on tight huh? And don't drink grape soda, it tastes like medicine.

Shortly after Malfoy hurried out of the library, Harry wandered back to the Gryffindor dorms, forcing himself to think of nothing else but the meetings for the DA. Things had been going well, or as well as they could be. Malfoy still hadn’t told Umbridge and that was a relief. Come to think of it, why hadn’t Malfoy ratted Harry out to Umbridge? It wasn’t as if he owed Harry anything. 

Harry cursed himself, how could his mind always manage to bring Malfoy up when he was deliberately trying not to think of that one git in particular? Honestly the whole thing was maddening.   
Grumbling about how delusional his stupid brain was, he approached the portrait of the fat lady. 

“Password?”

“Rum Punch, damnit,” Harry grumbled, and the fat lady sniffed haughtily in response, but swung open nevertheless. 

The common room was pleasantly calm, but there were still people lying about. Harry was just greatful that it wasn’t as treacherous as it had been when he left. 

“And where, pray tell, have you been?” 

Harry turned sharply on his heels to be faced with none other than Hermione. He huffed out a short breath, blowing his bangs up briefly. 

“Taking a nap, actually.”

“For practically three hours? I find that quite unlikely.” Harry blinked at Hermione, not understanding why she was acting so suspicious of him. 

“Hermione, you know I haven’t been getting enough sleep these nights, and the dorms were too noisy. So naturally I went to the library, and caught up on some much needed sleep. Is that good enough for you?” 

The frizzy haired girl opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to say something, but closed it instead. Finally, she sighed, “It wouldn’t have hurt to let either Ron or me know, Harry.”  
“Hermione, you don’t have to keep tabs on me, I promise.”

“But what if something had happened to you? What if Malfoy hexed you and you were incapacitated and…” Hermione was cut off by the chuckling coming from Harry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my concern for you was so amusing,” Hermione barked, flushing with frustration. 

“No, Hermione, it’s nothing like that,” Harry took a deep breath, controlling his hushed laughter, “It’s just… do you really think Malfoy has the balls to do that on school grounds? With Dumbledore running the place?” Harry was very adept in leaving out choice bits of information. He didn’t lie to Hermione, but he wasn’t telling her everything. 

Hermione huffed, “I suppose not. But I still don’t trust him.”

Harry put up his hands, “I don’t either, but I highly doubt that he’d chop off my head in the library.” ‘He’d had the chance after all,’ Harry added wordlessly to himself. 

“Well if you’re sure,” Hermione sighed, trailing off. Harry nodded to her and they went their separate ways, getting all their affairs in order before that night’s assembly of Dumbledore’s Army. 

///   
About a week had passed since Draco had talked with Potter in the library, and he’d managed to keep his emotions in check since then. But here, on the Astronomy tower, with the night wind blowing against his face, it was difficult not to think of those devious green eyes. He wanted so badly to see them up close again. 

The stars seemed especially bright tonight, thanks to the crisp, biting cold that stained the air and scorched the throat. Draco breathed in this air with vigor, enjoying every sensation it made him feel. He loved this weather, this time of year. His skin was so naturally fair, that the chilling wind would turn his cheeks and nose pink. 

Feeling either brave or careless, Draco hopped onto the railing and sat, one arm wrapped around a post for security as his feet dangled more than a hundred feet above the ground. He didn’t look down though, only up. It was a new moon this night, so the stars had ample opportunity to shine. He smiled to himself, letting his mind wander back to Harry. 

Leaning against the post, Draco reminisced about how Harry had looked when he was asleep. All of his expression smoothed into one of blissful slumber. His tan skin gentle and welcoming and comfortable in appearance. He looked like fire, warm and fierce and beautiful. But if he wasn’t careful, Draco would get burned. 

He knew it was too dangerous to try. He knew nothing would ever come of his feelings, and that they were just a useless, painful fantasy. But still, they were Draco’s and they were real. No one could take his feelings and fantasies away from him; he wouldn’t let them. 

“Malfoy?!” 

Draco whipped his body around to see Potter staring at him, terror written on his face, in his eyes. He ran over to the Slytherin, dropping the homework he’d brought with him. As fast as he could, Potter wrapped his arms around Draco and yanked him off the rail, causing them to fall back onto one another. They landed thickly on the stone floor, neither boy escaping pain. 

“What the fuck, Potter?!” Draco groaned, clutching his ribcage where Potter had grabbed him. He glared at the dark haired boy, confusion written on his face. Potter matched his expression. 

His voice shaking, Harry responded, “Why were you on the ledge?!” He didn’t want to admit how terrified he had been upon seeing Draco perched on the railing, looking as if at any second he would topple off. Harry was trembling. 

Malfoy glared at Harry, until realization slowly overcame his visage. He sighed, chuckling darkly as he shook his head. 

“I wasn’t going to jump, if that’s what you were thinking, Potter.” Harry was still visibly shaken. He barked out several bursts of joyless laughter as his eyes filled with detestable tears. He would not cry, especially in front of Malfoy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he just wanted to wrap his arms tightly around Draco, to prove to himself that he was real. They both were. 

“Then why…” Harry started, blinking quickly to prevent tears, “Why were you up there?” He realized how shaky and pathetic his voice sounded. It sounded like he would shatter. Draco’s face morphed into one of severe concern as he saw how shaken up Harry was. 

Before he knew what his body was doing, he crawled over to Harry, putting his hands on the other boy’s shoulders. 

“Harry…” Draco spoke gently, as if the night would shatter if there were any loud noises, “I’m fine, look at me.” The blond boy took Harry’s chin in one of his hands and guided his head to look up at him, their eyes meeting. Draco was shocked to see the tears in Harry’s eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Draco whispered, transfixed with those glossy green eyes. 

“I’m fine,” He repeated, his eyes flashing down to Harry’s lips before returning to his eyes. “I’m fine.” Neither boy was really thinking as they slowly started to close the gap between their faces. 

“Don’t… don’t do that,” Harry whispered, his breath, his voice hot against Draco’s lips. His rationality was put on the backburner of his mind as his body took control, raising his arms only to grip Draco’s back.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Harry gasped delicately as he felt one of Draco’s cold hands grip his hip, touching the small strip of skin showing between his blazer and trousers. 

Draco’s breathing became heavy, the lust and tentative euphoria he normally withheld taking control of him. “I won’t,” he promised before pressing his lips into Harry’s. 

Harry, throwing his inhibition and sense out of the window, pressed himself into Draco’s kiss, into the other boy’s embrace. With this Draco couldn’t help but moan softly, melting into Harry’s touch. Surprisingly, Harry was the one who pressed further, opening his mouth and prodding Draco’s lips with his tongue. Draco more than happily obliged, opening up as the Gryffindor slipped his tongue inside. 

Feeling himself getting hard, Harry growled, taking control as he flipped Draco onto his back, straddling him. He left the blond’s lips and started trailing wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck, slowly grinding against Draco’s steadily growing erection. 

Draco moaned, but with the weight of Harry on top of him and his lips on the nape of his neck, he steadily came back to himself. 

“Harry,” he said soberly, putting a steady hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

The dark haired boy suddenly froze. Timidly, he raised his face to look into Draco’s eyes. Harry had a look of terror and panic on his face. Draco felt a pang in his heart. 

“Harry,” Draco said in a tone more firm, sitting up as Harry slowly got off of him. 

“I – I – I…” Harry stammered, disgust for himself welling up, threatening to overflow. What had he… what had he just done? “I don’t know what…” he found himself unable to articulate what he wanted or needed to say. 

Draco bit his lip, concern etched onto every feature of his face. He backed away from Harry slowly, silently collecting himself. 

“It… it’s ok, Harry,” Draco spoke softly, so softly that it was almost a whisper. “I know you didn’t mean to.” He couldn’t stop the hurt from leaking into his voice. 

Harry didn’t know why Draco would feel hurt, but he definitely picked up that the Slytherin was feeling it. 

After a moment of thick, bridled silence, Harry spoke:

“I’m so confused,” he mumbled, looking down. Draco waited for him to continue.

“Why did that happen? Why… why did I…” Harry looked like he was fixing to break. 

Draco felt dejected, but desperately wanted to keep Harry from having a panic attack. So he lied, “It must have been the adrenaline.” 

Harry slowly looked up to him, a question on his face.

“When you tore me from the railing and threw me to the ground, you probably had an adrenaline rush. Sometimes that makes you able to do things you wouldn’t normally do.” 

Green eyes blinked at him, taking in the sight of Draco’s silhouette. 

“Then why did I enjoy it?” Harry blurted without thinking. Draco’s breath hitched, catching in his throat. 

“What?” Draco breathed, scratching his palms against the rough stone to wake himself up if this was a dream. 

Harry groaned, sounding pained as he gripped the sides of his head in frustration, “I don’t know!” He called out, louder than he probably should have. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Harry chanted the three words like a mantra. 

“Harry,” Draco started before he was cut off,

“I’m not gay, Draco!” Harry shouted exasperatedly, looking at him with an urgency Draco couldn’t place. But his heart did stutter when Harry said his first name. 

“I never said you were!” Draco retorted, balling his hands into fists. The situation was just now truly presenting itself to Draco, showing itself to him in clarity. This…this was not good. 

“I have to go,” he said in a terse manner after a moment of heavy silence. 

Harry looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate for some sort of answer, “Malfoy wait!” The Gryffindor grabbed a hold of Draco’s wrist before he could truly leave. Draco looked down at Harry’s hand with nervous agitation, his brows furrowing. Back to ‘Malfoy’ huh? So soon? He almost chuckled darkly. 

“What?”

With his glasses askew, Harry looked almost like a lost child. “I need to figure this out. I don’t like not knowing. Please, help me.”

‘Well isn’t this rich?’ Draco thought, a small sneer on his face. Potter asking him for help? The very notion almost made him bark with harsh laughter. But he didn’t. He blew up, making his hair fall away from his eyes, if only for a moment. What could he do? What could he possibly do to help Potter? 

“Don’t you hate me?” He asked bitterly.

Harry paused, contemplating what Malfoy had just said. Resigning, he bit his lip as he looked down, letting go of Malfoy’s wrist. “Yeah,” he mumbled dejectedly, “I suppose I do.” His face contorted in a foreign pain, a confusion that left him in a whirlwind of lost. 

“Then you don’t need my help. Figure it out on your own, Potter.” And with that, Malfoy was gone.


	5. Broken Nose, Blurry Ceiling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya. This chapter is a little bit late because I like to write a chapter ahead before I publish, and chapter six is a doozy. There is also smut in this. Steamy. Yessiree. I went to a bar/club for the first time last night. It was hot and sweaty and sexual and absolutely fantastic.

Harry stared blankly ahead, consumed with thoughts of a particular someone with wicked blond hair and a sharp glare. It had been exactly three days since the astronomy tower incident. Three days of madness for Harry. 

So preoccupied with his thoughts was he, that he didn’t see the column directly in front of him. He walked into it full force, successfully banging his nose into stone with full force. 

“Shit!” was all he could manage to bite out before falling back onto the ground, books and papers scattering. He was just glad that there was hardly anyone around to see that. Except for Ron, who had been rambling about quidditch and whatnot. When Harry plowed into the column, the redhead couldn’t contain his mirth, and spilled over into laughter. 

“Harry!” Ron laughed, squatting next to his friend. “I had no idea your eyesight was that bad, mate!” 

Harry shook his head and clutched at his nose, trying to think up something witty to respond with. 

“Fuck,” however, was all he could manage. 

Once Ron managed to calm down, he helped Harry up and they made their way to the infirmary, just to make sure it was nothing serious. Madame Pomfrey gave them a solemn stare as they explained what happened. 

“Wait here, Mr. Potter. I’ll be right back with a draught.” The sound of her thick heels clicked in the large, empty room. 

Several comfortable moments of silence passed, with Harry trying to ignore the pain in his apparently broken nose, before Ron spoke:

“Harry, are you alright?”

“Well Ron, I just broke my bloody nose, so no, I don’t think I’m alright.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Ron mumbled, fiddling with a loose string on the cuff of his shirt, “What I meant was that you’ve been off the last couple of days. Like you’re not you or something. I mean bloody hell, you ran into a pretty large column like it was nothing! Is there anything bothering you?”

Harry’s blood turned colder as his breathing became shallow. He couldn’t tell Ron anything about what was wrong. He needed to think of a feasible lie, and he needed to do it quickly. 

He sighed, “I suppose I’m just worrying about everything. Between the DA, Umbridge, and Voldemort coming back, I’m just feeling overwhelmed.” It was a rather decent lie, because it wasn’t a lie at all.   
Harry had been worrying about all of those things, they’d just so happened to be taking a back seat for the time being. 

Ron’s eyes became heavy with understanding. He sighed also, “Yeah, I know what you mean. Nothing really makes sense, does it?” Harry shook his head. 

Madame Pomfrey took this moment to arrive with the healing draught for Harry’s nose, “One spoonful if you please, Mr. Potter.” Harry obliged. It was a putrid looking bronze elixir. 

“Blimey that’s foul!” Harry coughed after choking the bile down. 

“Well then perhaps next time you’ll remember that columns don’t step aside for you. Go back to class,” the healer spoke curtly. Ron once again found himself doubled over with laughter, much to Harry’s chagrin. 

As they walked out of the infirmary, Ron began to ask Harry about the upcoming night’s DA meeting. “Ah, actually Ron,” Harry started, running a hand nervously through his disheveled hair, “I’m going to take a break from it tonight. And I think everyone else should too. We all need a moment to relax, don’t you think?”

Ron knitted his eyebrows together in a contemplative look. After a moment of thought, he spoke, “I suppose… especially if that’s what you think is best.” 

Sighing with relief, Harry thanked Ron and they walked the rest of the way to Potions in content silence. 

Draco, as well as the rest of the class jumped, startled as Potter and the Weasel entered the room. The Slytherin’s heart leapt as well, but for different reasons. It always did that when Draco saw Potter, even though he’d tried not to think about him since that night in the Astronomy tower. Avoiding thoughts of Potter was impossible for Draco. He mentally sighed, dejectedly turning around when Potter’s eyes met his. None of that, now. 

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” Snape drawled from the front of the class, “20 points from Gryffindor, and do be seated, before I get angry.” 

Potter took his place several rows in front of Draco and his friends, directly in Draco’s line of sight. He ignored the shaggy mess of black hair, and looked down at his notes instead. 

“Bet you they got caught up snogging each other and lost track of time,” Pansy hissed, sniggering harshly. Draco would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like throwing up. Just the thought of being close in proximity to the Weasel was enough to make Draco sick. He didn’t want to think of Harry liplocked with the redhead. 

“Don’t make me puke, Pansy,” Theo retorted, making a foul looking face. This just caused the girl to giggle with even more vigor. Draco didn’t say anything, which was a first, especially with the topic being Potter. 

Pansy was quick to notice this, “What do you say, Draco? Reckon they were heating it up in a broom closet? Getting all hot and bothered?” 

“Pansy please, do us all a favor and shut your yapping hole,” Draco whispered harshly, grinding his teeth. The girl reeled back, an offended look on her face. Blaise and Theo could hardly contain their laughter. Snape continued to ignore them. 

Potions seemed to pass by rather breezily after that, although Draco still couldn’t quite scrub the image of Potter and Weasly out of his head. Disgusting. But he had to admit, it was better than letting his mind wander to the Astronomy tower, and having a situation of a different sort arise. 

Feeling listless, Draco gathered his things slowly as the class was dismissed, other students swarming to get out of the classroom. He got up and mixed in with the crowd, but startled when he felt something aggravate a pocket of his robe. Immediately he shoved his hand inside, only to feel a crumpled up piece of paper. Draco looked up, and was met with a shocking pair of green eyes, glancing at him knowingly from the room’s doorway. Potter had just slipped him a bloody note. Draco didn’t know the git was capable of such stealth. 

He waited to open the note until he was in the safety of his dorm and lying on his bed. Draco unraveled it to display the message:

‘Meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight around 11… don’t tell anyone. Be discreet.’ 

A small smile spread itself against Draco’s mouth despite himself. Even though he’d been so firm with Potter the other night in the tower, he couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of meeting him alone once again. But, the ‘Room of Requirement’, what and where was that? Draco thought properly for a moment, and was able to deduce that it must have been where he caught Potter sneaking off to, where those silly meetings of his were held. Yes. Yes he’d meet Potter there tonight. He’d accept Potter’s invitation. It was as though he was taking steps towards a world he knew nothing about. An exciting, exhilarating world, but unfamiliar nonetheless. 

After a contemplative moment or two, Draco gathered his things and headed out into the common room to work on some assignments. It would be an effective means of killing time, whilst also enabling him to wait until the others had gone to bed to sneak out. He soon found that he had a good bit of difficulty focusing on his schoolwork, and instead started to daydream. 

His eyes glazed over with thought as he remembered Potter’s lips. Their kiss had been brash and hungry, sloppy and immature. It was far from a good kiss, but Draco didn’t feel the need to score it by any means. He hadn’t had many other kisses to compare it to, after all. But the special thing about this was that is was Harry Potter’s kiss; it was Harry Potter’s lips locked against his own. After all, not many people can say that they’ve snogged Harry Potter. 

This thought brought a wry smile to Draco’s face as he forgot himself in his own train of thought. A train of thought that was interrupted by Theo:

“What are you smiling about?”

He and Pansy had sat down on the loveseat nearest where Draco was working, looking at him with bewildered and humored expressions. 

Draco’s warm, happy demeanor melted away into a calloused, calculating one as he remembered himself. 

“My own descent into madness, I suppose,” was his dour response. Pansy snorted. 

“As if. You did that long ago when you decided you prefer blokes instead of all this,” she gestured to her body, earning a playful slap on the arm from Theo. 

“Don’t think that’s something you can just decide, Pansy. You’re just bitter,” Theo chuckled, tossing Draco an understanding look. Draco simply stared back blankly.   
“Besides,” Theo added, “You’re enough to drive any man to rid himself of the female sex for good.” 

At that, the girl gasped in an offended manner, holding a hand to her chest. They proceeded to bicker back and forth, effectively forgetting that Draco was there. ‘All the better,’ Draco thought bemusedly, returning to his work. 

As the daylight waned, Slytherins came and went from the common room, allowing Draco the space and quiet he needed. With each passing minute his nervous excitement grew, until the common room was empty save for him, and 10:45 was the time. 

Harry was restless. He had been all day since he’d concocted this plan. His legs bounced nervously as he sat on the couch the Room of Requirement had provided him with. He hadn’t known quite what it was he’d be needing, but the room did. The room always knew. 

He’d been planning this really ever since the night at the Astronomy tower with Malfoy. The blond git was going to help him whether he wanted to or not. But still, would he even come? Would he show up? Why would he? He hated Harry. The more Harry thought about these questions, the more he reminded himself that it was Malfoy who had initiated the kiss, not Harry. 

Anxiety and self-doubt started to cloud Harry’s mind. He was so stupid. Malfoy wasn’t coming. He ran a hand through his hair, effectively disheveling it. He really didn’t need this added stress. 

It was already 11, and Malfoy wasn’t there. Harry let out a long, harsh sigh. Before he could get up to leave, however, he heard the door open. His head snapped up. It was Malfoy. 

Malfoy closed the door tentatively and cautiously strode towards Harry. 

“Please tell me I’m not about to get ambushed, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, a whisper of a smile on his mouth. 

Harry let out a shaky sigh of relief that turned into a nervous chuckle. “No, none of that tonight. I’m not that despicable….” 

Silence followed as Malfoy stood above Harry, a curious stare enveloping the both of them. After several moments, Malfoy spoke:

“So what then?” The words had no bite. They were careful and curious. “Why did you ask me here?” 

Harry stared up at Malfoy, nervous self-doubt in his eyes, “I wanted, er, needed to speak with you.” He looked down, fiddling with his hands, “About that night we were in the Astronomy tower.” 

Draco felt his breath hitch as he inhaled sharply. His face started to burn. 

“There isn’t anything to speak about. Not really.” Oh the lies Draco told himself. 

Potter looked dejected, almost desperate as he responded, “Oh bollocks, Malfoy!” With these words, Potter was on his feet, nearer to Draco and closing the distance. 

“If you really thought that there was nothing to be said, then why did you come here?” By the time Potter finished, he was practically touching Draco, his green eyes alight with determination. Draco felt as if he was choking on his own tongue. What could he say? Why did he acquiesce Potter’s demand?

His heart was beating so hard he was almost sure Potter could hear it. This didn’t feel real, it felt foggy, like a dream. Draco’s breathing became shallow. 

“You… you’re very strange, Potter,” Draco decided, backing away from the wild-haired boy and sitting down stiffly on the couch from which Potter had leapt. 

“And you’re even stranger, Malfoy,” Potter responded sharply, following Draco’s movements with his own. 

Harry didn’t understand what was happening, especially within his own head, his own body. And as his temperature rose, his decorum diminished. He found that with each passing second, he cared less about holding his thoughts and emotions back. So he continued:

“You’re strange, and you’re an absolute prick, and I know you’re severe and insufferable; but fuck, Malfoy why do I see that less now? I’m so confused, I feel like I don’t belong in my own skin, and every movement feels alien. I’m not gay, I know I’m not, but why then do I think that you’ve never looked so good?! With your dumb hair and your stupid, stormy eyes, and…”

Before he could finish, Malfoy had pulled him down onto the couch, against himself, and crashed their lips together. 

Surprised, Harry froze momentarily, before melting into his adversary’s embrace. As their mouths moved together, so did their bodies. Harry held Draco’s head as one of the other boy’s hands entangled itself in Harry’s hair, the other holding him close. 

Harry’s lips parted willingly, almost needily for Draco, and the Slytherin obliged. They fought for dominance, and when they finally parted for air, foreheads resting together, Harry continued:

“It’s… it’s shit like this… with you… god, it’s burning me up,” the boy panted, taking off his glasses and setting them on a side table. 

Draco took this opportunity to grab Harry and flip him so that he was lying on the couch, underneath the blond. He didn’t say anything, but looked into Harry’s flourishing green eyes, lust and anticipation swirling inside. He captured the Gryffindor’s lips once again, running a hand down Harry’s side and sliding up his untucked shirt. 

Feeling Draco’s chilled hands gliding across his skin, Harry shivered, arching closer to the warmth of Draco’s body. When they broke for air this time, the boy with the messy, dark hair immediately found the other’s pale neck, latching on with hunger. 

Draco sucked in his breath as Harry worked his mouth over Draco’s exposed skin. He leaned in close as the other boy wrapped his legs around him. 

“Shit,” the blond mumbled, unknowingly grinding himself against Harry. Harry, who moaned in response and nipped lightly at the nape of Draco’s neck. 

Feeling how hard the other boy had gotten, Draco reached his hand down and palmed Harry through his pants, causing the boy to rock gently against him. This illicited a growl from Harry, and he quickly captured Draco’s mouth once again. 

As tongues moved together sloppily, Draco’s hand fumbled with the button and zipper of Harry’s pants. There were no coherent thoughts in either boy’s head. There was nothing but desire, nothing but impatient want. Need. A thirst that ran rampant throughout one boy and swiftly into the other. It didn’t make any real sense, but made perfect sense all at once. But they were largely unconcerned with petty matters such as what was or wasn’t nonsensical, they were too distracted with the fire burning inside of themselves. 

Draco clumsily pulled Harry’s trousers down to about mid-thigh, leaving the boy beneath him almost exposed. His mouth left the other’s and wandered to his neck. Time to return the favor. Draco bit and sucked along Harry’s neck, being careful as to not leave love bites. With both hands free now, he used them to easily pull the Gryffindor’s undergarments down to join his trousers. 

Harry was hard, so very very hard. It almost ached how badly he wanted to be touched. His desire was so strong that he didn’t have room to feel any of the shame that typically came with being exposed. His libido only grew as Draco spit into his own hand, pausing to give Harry a devilish smirk before wrapping said hand around Harry’s member. He arched into the touch with a shuddering gasp, eyes closed and arms wrapped around the other boy’s neck. 

Draco worked him slowly, teasingly deliberately, drinking in the moans and gasps that Harry produced with relish. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be hearing these noises. He reminded himself briefly to never forget them, because he’d probably never hear them again. 

He worked his hand up and down Harry’s shaft, illiciting moan after moan from Harry. ‘Who knew the Chosen One was so vocal?’ he thought to himself wryly. Soon Harry started to get impatient, bucking into Draco’s hand. Draco stopped working on Harry’s neck and slowly started to move down the boy’s body, stopping where his hand had been working. 

Realizing what Draco was about to do, Harry froze, not daring to breathe. He stared down at Draco in shock, eyes wide. At that, the blond boy chuckled. 

“Relax, Potter,” Draco smirked, “I’ve been told that I’m quite good at this.” 

And with that, Draco’s mouth descended slowly onto Harry. In response to the sudden hot, wet pressure that surrounded him, Harry tossed his head back, staring at the ceiling. Since he was without his glasses, it was quite a blurry ceiling, but that didn’t really matter since he wasn’t registering anything but the sensation of Draco’s mouth around his cock anyway. 

Draco moved slowly until all of Harry was inside of his mouth. Sucking delicately, he pulled up until he reached the head, where he plunged down again. This continued for several turns, each time Draco descended causing harry to groan hoarsely as if in pain. 

“Draco, I’m… I’m close Draco,” was all he could stutter out. He barely had enough energy to breathe. It felt as if Draco was sucking the very life-force out of him. Draco simply hummed in response. The pressure in Harry’s body built and tumbled inside of him, glowing like a white-hot ember, until it exploded. 

Harry came with a cry that sounded desperate and mournful and exhausted all at once. Draco didn’t let go until he was finished, swallowing everything in heavy, rich gulps. The dark-haired boy’s body lied exhausted and spent beneath him, slowly recovering from the harsh burst of ecstasy. 

The sight of Harry’s tired, satisfied face as he tried to reclaim his breath caused a true smile to grace Draco’s face. A small smile, but a true one. He’d just blown Harry fucking Potter. He suppressed his urge to giggle uncontrollably at the thought. 

Draco sat up, away from Harry as the boy recovered. When Harry came back to himself, he hastily pulled his underwear and trousers up, only now feeling the twinge of embarrassment. Did that just happen?

“Um,” he started smartly, his face burning a bright red, “Uh….”

Draco barked out a laughter so powerful that Harry jumped, expecting almost anything but this. After several moments of Draco not ceasing to shake with laughter, Harry started to get irritated. 

“And what, pray tell, is so funny, Malfoy?” Harry grumbled, drawing himself away from the Slytherin.

“Oh nothing,” Draco sighed, recovering from his burst of laughter, “It’s just that the infamous Harry Potter just received head from the son of Lucius Malfoy. That’s all.” 

Harry continued to pout, his embarrassment growing. 

“Oh come on, Potter!” Draco exclaimed, “Don’t tell me you don’t see the humor in this?”

“I suppose I do,” Harry murmured, running a hand through his hair. He got his glasses and put them back on unceremoniously. Anything to avoid interacting more with Malfoy. 

Draco sighed contentedly. Even though he hadn’t received the same treatment as Potter, he still got something out of it. If nothing else, a good laugh. 

Silence overtook them both then, as the weight of the situation started to become apparent. Yes. That really just happened. There was no use denying it. And Harry had enjoyed every second of it, but he’d die before admitting so. 

Still, Harry owed it to Draco to at least say something on the matter. He cleared his throat, feeling still grey eyes on him as he spoke:

“Thank you,” a delicate pause, “For helping me. I guess. I’m not gay but… well I know I’m not straight now, don’t I?”

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed, “Yes Potter, now you know. So glad I could help you along on your journey of self discovery. Just what I’ve always dreamt of.” 

“You don’t have to be an ass, you know.” Harry seemed frustrated.

“An ass am I?” Draco’s laugh was joyless and cutting, “An ass indeed! But at least I didn’t use anyone for sexual exploration!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?! This just seemed the most logical option!”

“Logic! Tell me, Potter, what exactly do you know about logic?”

“I know enough,” Harry bit back, nearly shaking. 

They sat in charged silence, staring at each other with an unspoken challenge between the two. The tension in the air was a different kind, one that neither boy had ever felt, much less understood. All of this was so foreign to Harry, and so unobtainable to Draco, that it seemed as if this was just a fever dream. Draco sighed, resigning to be the one to break the silence:

“Look, Harry,” there was a serious tone to his voice that Harry had never heard before, “I know you’re confused. Probably scared. Fuck, so am I. But, I enjoyed this. Before we started talking at least. And I know you did too.” Harry’s mouth started to tug into a grin, but he withheld it. 

“I can’t bloody well deny that, can I?” The black haired boy put his face in his hands and rubbed both his eyes. Draco grimaced. 

“…But we both know that this is going nowhere. And it’s going nowhere fast,” Draco continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken, “I think it would be wise for both of our sakes if we just nip this in the bud. If we stop this before it even begins.”

Harry knitted his eyebrows together as he stared ahead, a coil of fear winding its way through his insides. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll stop now.” Draco knew this was coming, he knew it was the only logical way this could go, but it still hurt. He refused to show any emotion to Potter, and arose from the couch swiftly, brushing himself off as if nothing happened. 

“Good, then it’s agreed,” He turned to leave, but before he could exit through the doorway, he heard Harry call quietly out to him:

“Goodbye Draco.”


	6. Dreams of Something not yet Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao sorry it's been so long since i've updated this fic, it's still active though I promise. Enjoy.

With how busy things had been getting over the last several weeks, Harry had hardly thought about the night with Malfoy in the Room of Requirement. Things were going well with the DA, he was now apparently dating Cho Chang, and he’d managed to keep Umbridge out of his hair… for the most part. It was surprisingly rare that he even thought about Malfoy, which almost surprised Harry. Well, his mind had been pretty occupied as of late. 

However, there were always moments where the memory of Malfoy, of that night would creep into his consciousness. They typically came, as one would predict, whilst he was trying to sleep.   
On this particular night, the hour was around 2:30, and Harry still didn’t feel the least bit tired. Sighing, he got up and walked down into the common room. Hopefully the warmth of the fire would still his thoughts. 

Harry watched as the flames flickered and danced, alight with movement and life. How could something so beautiful be so destructive? When it was contained, it was so enjoyable it was almost holy; but a fire unfettered was a danger unlike anything else. ‘But still holy in a different aspect,’ Harry thought mirthlessly to himself. 

He heard the sound of tired feet walking down the steps of the girls’ side of the dorms, and tensed automatically. Interaction with a random Gryffindor girl was something he didn’t particularly need at the moment. 

“Oh! Harry..?” The voice was Hermione’s. Harry breathed out a laugh, undeniably relieved to see her. 

“Hello Hermione.”

“What are you doing up at this hour? You need to get all the sleep you can,” she softly scolded him as she moved around to sit down as well. 

“I could say the same for you, you know,” Harry smiled tiredly. After a pause, he spoke again, “I couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to wake anyone up with my tossing and turning about so… here I am.”  
Hermione hummed, staring into the fire with a distant look in her eyes. 

“I woke up,” she said matter-of-factly, still looking into the fire. “I woke up with a strange feeling in my stomach, and thought the best thing for myself was to come down here.” 

Gentle silence followed as both students gazed absently into the fingers of the flames. Hermione spoke again:

“Whenever I wake up like this, it happens more often than you’d think, I come down here and look at the fire. It has a way of soothing me back to sleep.” Suddenly Hermione snapped to attention and gazed at Harry with the look she had when trying to solve something. “What were you thinking about, that you couldn’t get to sleep?”

Harry groaned internally, he should have known that the haze of sleep wouldn’t keep Hermione from prying. Was it so much to ask for quiet support every now and then? 

“Nothing.”

“Well it’s obviously not nothing, Harry. Is it about Umbridge? Cho? Malfoy?”

“All three I suppose,” Harry responded before he could stop himself. He really didn’t need Hermione finding out about the jolt of fun that he and the Slytherin had in the Room of Requirement. 

“Ah, I suppose that’d do the trick,” she sighed, stretching and scooting closer to the fire, “But I wouldn’t be worried about Malfoy. He still hasn’t said a word to Umbridge about the Room of Requirement, and if he hasn’t now, then I don’t think he will.”

“He’s still a slimey git,” Harry grumbled, sinking further into his chair and pouting. 

“Naturally,” the witch said, smiling at the fire, “But he’s a slimey git that hasn’t ratted us out. Umbridge? Well who isn’t thinking disdainful thoughts about that wretched woman? I almost want her dead more than You-Know-Who.” Harry almost howled at that, reminding himself that there were still people who were very much asleep, and to not be too loud. 

Hermione cast an easy smirk Harry’s way as she added, “Almost.” 

More comfortable silence followed, the light of the fire casting amber light and dancing obsidian shadows all across the room. 

“And Cho?” Harry asked, genuinely wondering what Hermione thought. His relationship with Cho was… strange. She hadn’t healed from Cedric’s death, the wound she felt was fresh. Being with her never really felt like anything but a beautiful hallucination. Or rather, a hallucination of a beautiful girl. 

Sighing, Hermione spoke, “I don’t even know how or why you got into it with her, Harry. She’s obviously not ready for anything like that so soon. I’m not even sure why she bothers pretending. The whole bloody school already knows it all.” She was right, as always. But Harry was a bit surprised with how abrasive Hermione’s words had come across. He might have to talk to 3 a.m. Hermione more often.   
“Easy there, Hermione. It’s still my girlfriend you’re talking about.”

“Oh fuck’s sake Harry! She’s just using you as a desperate means to hide pain. And hiding pain never amounts to anything but more pain.” Harry rarely heard Hermione curse, and when she did, it was typically when she was extremely stressed or entirely furious. Now, she was just tired and grumpy.

More silence followed, Harry being careful not to spur her on. He didn’t fancy suffering through a Hermione rant at 3 o’clock in the morning. Finally, she huffed and turned her whole body to face him:

“Harry. I know I’m being a tad harsh. I’m tired. But really, with everything you have on your shoulders already, do you truly think you need a girlfriend? And I’m not just saying this because it’s Cho, I’d say this if it were any other girl too. Do you really believe that it would suit your best interest at the moment to have to worry about keeping a girlfriend? Honestly….” 

The boy sighed deeply, suddenly feeling very tired. He knew she was right. But Cho was so beautiful, and she was such a nice distraction. From everything. From Malfoy. He looked deeply into the licking tongues of the fire, and thought of everything and nothing all at once. The longer he stared, the more his eyes drooped. He yawned. 

“Finally,” Hermione breathed, giving Harry a pointed look, “Do you think you’ll manage to sleep now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry responded, getting up from the velveteen chair, “Goodnight Hermione.”

“Sleep well Harry,” she mirrored, returning her gaze once more into the fire. Sometimes Harry wondered what all went on in his friend’s head. What did Hermione think about in moments such as this, staring fervently into the fire? He would have asked her, had it not been for his bed calling his name. 

///  
Draco was frustrated. He had been ever since the night he went to the Room of Requirement with Harry. He’d luckily been able to keep it all inside, under a mask and go about his days like he was just as aloof and disdainful as he always was. He purposely never even looked in the direction of Potter, and he was making it a point not to say anything about the boy to his friends. They would just act like twats about it anyway. 

It was easy for Draco to push it away, under his mind. He just threw himself into his studies and everything else would fade away. But there were moments like this afternoon, when he didn’t have any schoolwork, and no snide, teasing friends, where his thoughts about the boy with the scar and the glasses and the moss colored eyes were inescapable. 

The day was cool and the sky was grey. The air smelled crisp and the wind blew cold. This was Draco’s favorite time of year. It was in the brunt of Autumn, and the world was getting ready for winter. He decided to sit outside for a while, alone. Sometimes he allowed himself to be washed over by thoughts he was trying to keep out. At least, problems that didn’t involve his father, the Dark Lord or anything along those lines. Those he tried to never think about. 

Ah but Potter. That was a pleasant unwanted thought. 

Draco was sitting on a cold stone bench that was almost hidden near the herbology greenhouse. From here, one could easily see the top of the quidditch field. The Gryffindor team was practicing. ‘Perfect,’ Draco thought sarcastically to himself as he rolled his eyes. 

The cold of the stone underneath him was sobering, and he savored it. Hopefully it would make his hands go numb. 

He watched the Gryffidors dip, dive and soar, disappearing occasionally to discuss technique and whatnot. Potter was unmistakable with his wild black hair. Draco sighed gently. That night in the Room of Requirement had been over two weeks ago. He hadn’t talked to Potter since. What would he say anyway? What would Potter say? 

Tapping his foot impatiently, his mind raced with scenarios of how another conversation between Potter and himself would unfold. There were none that seemed to come easy. Why was it that any time Potter was involved, things became messy? Draco groaned softly, immensely grateful that he was alone. 

His eyes followed Potter throughout their entire practice. He didn’t even realise he was staring for so long. The breezed rolled easily against his skin, tingeing his cheeks pink. 

Nothing would ever come of this. He would never be anything more than a menace in Potter’s life. 

This Draco knew, but it still hurt to remind himself of it. He could hardly admit it even to himself, but he cared for Potter. And the prospect of not being able to be in the life or proximity of someone you care about would hurt anyone. Even cold, calloused Draco Malfoy. No, the best way to avoid a rebuttle of epic porportions was to simply avoid Potter in every possible way. That meant no picking fights with him or his friends, no snooping around looking for his posse, no thinking about his careful smile, or his hungry green eyes behind those ridiculous glasses, or his unruly unreasonable mane of hair that drove Draco mad. Nope. None of that. 

“Bloody impossible…” Draco dourly murmured to himself, thinking once again of those very features he told himself to despise. 

Potter was a reckless energy, careening and bursting through existance with a furocity and determination that any reasonable wizard would marvel at. Harry Potter was the color red, was orange, was gold and was amber. He was fire licking up the forest in flames, powerful and reckless. But Harry Potter was also summer. He was sultry, and welcome and everyone adored him. He was a day in the sun, warm on the skin and bright and full of goodness. He was the sand beneath Draco’s feet, soft and abrasive all at once. 

Draco was none of this. He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand that felt like ice. Draco was cold, he was as dark as a cave and as welcoming as one too. He was green, silver, black and bronze. He was a tool, a pawn in a game he had no control over. Not that Potter would think of it like that. 

He was living on borrowed time. With each day that passed, Draco grew closer to his fate. 

The boy shuddered, suddenly bothered by the cold engulfing him. He needed to get back inside. He needed to stop watching Potter and his entrancing broomwork. He needed to sleep. 

Sleep had not been a thing that came easy to Draco, especially over these past weeks. He’d started to have to brew his own sleeping draughts in order to get barely three hours. The bags under his eyes were starting to get bad. Perhaps now, during the gentle light of day, sleep would come easier to him. Yes, he needed to go and try to sleep. 

Hopefully it would be dreamless. 

///  
Dinners at the Gryffindor table were always something to behold. There would be loud conversations overlapping and competing with one another, light-hearted arguments that would almost always end with food being thrown around playfully, and obnoxious snooping for who got what on what assignment. Overall, it was a pretty great time if one was in the mood for it. 

Harry welcomed the distractions that dinner provided, he almost always did. He was in a rather good mood actually; quidditch practice had gone well, the weather had been so nice, and he hadn’t failed the paper Professor Mcgonagall had assigned. The high energy Gryffindor table was the cherry on top. 

Content to listen to Seamus ramble on about the girl in Charms who was apparently undressing him with her eyes, Harry happily shoveled food into his mouth. So busy enjoying himself was Harry that he didn’t notice that Neville was gazing worriedly at him. Hermione, however, did. 

“What’s wrong, Neville?” she asked, causing the boy to look at her instead. Harry’s attention turned towards the both of them as Seamus rambled on. 

“It’s probably nothing…” Neville had mumbled, eyes flickering nervously over to Harry. 

“Well obviously not, mate. Out with it,” Ron spoke up, apparently having lost interest in Seamus’ riveting tale about Charms girl. 

Neville sighed before speaking, “It’s nothing serious. I just think Harry should know that earlier tonight, Malfoy was watching the quidditch team practicing. Specifically you, Harry.” 

Harry felt his heart stutter, much to his chagrin. “What?” he questioned, “None of us saw him around the field….”

“He wasn’t by the field. He was sitting on a bench near the Herbology classroom, which is how I saw him. You can only see the quidditch players when they soar high from there though. So it’s probably nothing, but it’s Malfoy. So I just thought you should know,” Neville finished hurriedly, leaning towards Harry so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice. 

Harry didn’t really know how to respond. Malfoy had been watching him? He hadn’t even been acknowledging Harry’s existence in the past several weeks. No snide quips or disturbances of any kind. Nothing. So why watch him practice? He suddenly felt very tired. 

Without realizing what he was doing, he looked up and over to the Slytherin table, quickly catching sight of the bright shock of blond hair. Malfoy looked just as calm, collected and condescending as he always had. Harry knew he’d been watching him for too long when suddenly grey eyes met his. The Gryffindor quickly jerked his head away, fighting the warmth that was gathering in his cheeks. 

“Hopefully it’s nothing serious,” Hermione finally responded to Neville, “He wasn’t with anyone, was he?”

Neville shook his head. 

“We need to be all the more cautious still. Things have been going easily so far, and I’d like to keep it that way,” Hermione said with a sniff. 

“I’d like all of this a lot more if I could get one punch, just one, in on the git,” Ron grumbled, continuing with his food. And that was it on the matter. 

Harry remained passively silent for the rest of dinner, his mind taking up most of his attention span. He didn’t want to think about this now, not whilst he was awake. He forced all thoughts of Malfoy to the back of his mind and was able to act like his normal self until he got ready for bed. 

Lying on his back, in the comfort of his bed and staring blankly up at the canopy of his bed, he finally was unable to escape his thoughts. Draco Malfoy. He mouthed the name, making sure to stay silent. The darkness of the night enveloped him, and Harry suddenly felt as if he was being held by it. It was a sure, sturdy feeling, and he was comforted. 

He thought of grey eyes. Swirling and stormy behind a cruel visage. They were clouds. They were Iris florentina. They were the moon, and they were a tombstone. They terrified him, but intrigued him all the same. Why did they have to belong to Draco Malfoy? With thoughts of the eyes of a Slytherin filling his mind, Harry found himself asleep, and within a dream.

Leaves fell around him like gentle rain. He was in a forest, but at the same time it wasn’t a forest. He walked forward, leaves catching in his hair and a chilly breeze kissing his face. The eyes of the trees blinked at him, warm and watchful like a caregiver. 

A short distance in front of him, he could see nice, expensive looking fireplace, and two brown leather chairs in front of it. He approached it, his heart beating fast with anticipation. There was a well-sized fire in the hearth, and as Harry grew closer, he felt the warmth more. When he was inbetween the armchairs he stopped, staring deeply into the heart of the fire. Slowly his eyes looked up at the mantle, to see that it was carved. Images of deer and foxes repeated throughout twiting celtic knots and vines. 

“I like the foxes,” said a voice from behind Harry, but he didn’t jump or startle. It was like he knew this voice. He turned to see a little girl in one of the armchairs, reading what looked to be a muggle children’s book. She had dark hair, and pink bandages on a scratched up knee of hers. She was barefoot. 

“Hello,” Harry said, standing with a quiet curious confidence. 

“Hi,” the little girl said, looking up from her book and smiling at Harry, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Harry had never seen this girl in his life. He knew he hadn’t. But still, she looked so familiar, and at the same time, he knew her very very well.   
The girl tossed her book to the ground, got up and all but jumped against Harry, wrapping her arms around him. He held her back, suddenly getting the urge to cry.   
Harry felt old, and larger than himself. Especially as he held the little girl. 

Suddenly the girl pulled back and looked up at Harry, her eyes curious and large. 

“Why did she leave?” she asked, hurt edged in her small voice. 

“Because of your eyes,” Harry heard, felt himself say, even though he had no idea the meaning or implications behind the words. He didn’t even know who the “she” that the little girl asked of was.   
The girl stepped away, a look of pain on her face. 

“My eyes…” she whispered, “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Harry didn’t speak right away, but when he did, his voice didn’t feel like his own, “She left because they weren’t hers.” 

“Then who’s eyes are they?” She rubbed her eyes as if she was tired.

Harry knelt down so that he was eye level with her, “They’re your eyes, little doe.” And he kissed her gently on the forehead. 

“My eyes,” the little girl echoed, a smile in her voice. Without warning, she turned and fled further into the forest, giggling mirthfully. Harry let her go, his mind reeling. Who was she? He felt so warm when he held her. Why?

“Because you love her, you imbicile,” Harry swung around to see Malfoy sitting in the chair next to the one the little girl sat in. 

“M… Malfoy?”

“Obviously,” the blond said, a smirk on his face as he tossed a green apple into the air, catching it and repeating. 

“Why are you here?” Harry felt no animosity towards him, he was just confused. 

Malfoy laughed delicately, “I live here, Harry!” There was something different about Malfoy. He was happy. Genuinely happy. An emotion Harry had never seen the other boy wear before. It was eerie, but addicting as well. He’d called Harry by his first name. 

“In the woods?” 

“Yes…” Malfoy drawled, a smile on his lips, “She and I both do.”

“Who… who was she?” Harry frowned in confusion, quickly forgetting what the little girl looked like. “Why, I can’t… I don’t know who she….”

Wordlessly, Malfoy got up and walked over to Harry, grabbing his shoulders. Harry just looked at the ground, concentration and frustration written in his entire body. 

“Oh Harry…” Malfoy’s voice was laced with kindess and care. Something Harry never in a million years could have pictured. 

When Harry raised his head to look at Malfoy in the eyes, the blond continued, “You still have lots of time to know her. We both do.”

As the dream faded away, Harry swiftly forgot it, pushing it back into the catalogue of his mind to be lost and forgotten about. In the morning, it would be nothing but a nagging sensation. 

///  
Draco’s slumber was not dreamless, as he had hoped. The moment he had faded into sleep, a dream emerged out of the darkness. 

“You’re so cold.” A voice beside him said. He was holding a hand much smaller than his own. Draco looked down at the owner of the voice to see a little girl with dark hair looking up at him, squeezing his hand. She was familiar to him, but he’d never seen her before in his life. 

They were in a large, lavish cabin that Draco recognized at once as his family’s forest vacation home in British Columbia. But this place was different at the same time; it was covered in frost and snow as if the roof had been removed during a snowstorm. Icicles grew from everywhere they could. He noticed that the little girl’s cheeks and nose were tinted pink from the cold. Like his normally did. 

“I could say the same for you,” he finally responded, his eyes locking onto hers. She smiled shyly. 

“You never come home anymore. I miss you.” Draco felt his heart swell. He swiftly scooped her up into his arms and held her close. 

“I miss you more, Lys.” He gave her an affectionate eskimo kiss, from which she giggled delightedly. 

“Do you miss me every day?”

“Every second.” Draco had no idea who she was. Lys? Is that what he’d called her? He’d never known a Lys, never even heard the name. 

After a moment, he put the little girl down and knelt down on the snowy ground next to her. The snow wasn’t wet. He looked the little girl in the eyes, taking in every detail of her face and her wild hair.   
“Lys is a nickname, right?” She nodded.

“Do you know what it’s short for?” She nodded again.

“Can you tell me?” At this the little girl thought a moment. She tilted her head from one side to the other, looking up and humming with a finger on her chin. Her nails were painted bright purple.   
“Yes!” she burst out after a moment, almost causing Draco to jump. He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Draco sighed, feeling impatience creeping into his mind. 

“Alright, so what IS Lys short for?”

She smiled, “Lysandra.” The moment the word left her lips, the time surrounding the dream stopped. Draco felt his heart beat rapidly, so loud it was pounding through his blood. Lysandra. He suddenly felt sorrow envelope his entire being, a mourning of something or someone he didn’t even know yet. He felt wettness on his cheeks, but he didn’t even care. He just stared blankly ahead. 

“Oh no, you’re crying,” the little girl’s voice seemed to bring him back to himself, and the time around them started again. She reached out to his face, and rubbed at the tears with the heels of her palms. 

“You don’t need to cry,” she whispered, “My eyes are my own. So are yours.” 

Her words just confused Draco further, and he felt his heart twist at the sight of her. Pain contorted his face as more tears escaped. The little girl didn’t pull her hands away though. Draco couldn’t decide if he was grateful for this or not. 

“You’ll meet me one day,” she continued, pressing her forehead against his, “You’re so cold. So so cold.” And with those words she faded away, leaving Draco to cry out helplessly into no one. The world felt as if it was falling. The pain and emptiness Draco felt was unparallelled. She was gone. She was gone and Draco knew in his heart that he’d never see her again. But why did he care so much? Who was she? Why was her name so very important? Lysandra. 

“What are you crying about?” Draco’s head snapped up at the voice of Potter, to see that all of the snow and ice was gone, but the home still looked different. Potter was standing above him, looking down at him with warm eyes. 

Draco could barely speak, but he managed to choke out, “Her. She’s gone, Harry.” Potter sat down in front of Draco, grabbing a hold of his hands. 

“There’s no more snow in here,” Potter said, and when Draco looked at him, he saw that he was smiling. The blond sniffed, his tears slowly dissolving. 

“I don’t want to forget her.” 

Potter moved one of his hands up to cradle Draco’s head, which the boy was entirely too grateful for. “You won’t,” the Gryffindor said, determination and assuredness confidant in his voice.   
“Do you promise?” Draco asked, whispering as to not shatter the moment. 

“I promise,” Potter was slowly moving in closer, “One of us has to, after all. And I’ve already forgotten. But you? You won’t allow yourself to forget her, Draco.” 

The dream ended the second Potter’s lips had touched his, and Draco awoke with a start. His eyes were brimming with tears, and he quietly fumbled around for a scrap of parchment and a quill. He had to remember her. He had to find a way to remind himself. 

Just as her name was starting to fade, he scrawled onto the parchment: Lysandra. He sighed in relief. He still had her name, he still had her, he still knew her. Even though he had already forgotten what she looked like.


	7. Watchful Eyes and Burning Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on my bullshit oh lawd. Enjoy the most recent chapter, y'all.

Harry wanted to talk to Malfoy again. He didn’t need to – not really; the Slytherin watching him play quidditch wasn’t really a valid reason to accost Malfoy. But Harry being Harry saw no other option than to figure out some way of forcing Malfoy’s attention. ‘It’s logic,’ he’d tell himself as he ignored whatever lesson he was in. 

The problem was that Malfoy seemed to still be doing his utmost to ignore Harry’s very existence. And he was doing this very well. Not even a snide quip here or there, not even to Harry’s friends! But apparently he still had enough interest to stalk his quidditch practice. 

Running a hand through his hair nervously, Harry’s mind began to whir like gears in a clock. Truth be told, he was just desperate for some, any, of Malfoy’s attention. Now that he knew Malfoy still knew he existed, thanks to Neville, it seemed as though Harry couldn’t keep the blond out of his thoughts. He’d been able to keep thoughts about the Room of Requirement and Malfoy to a minimum, but all of that work seemed futile now. He’d actually gotten head from Draco bleeding Malfoy. The thought made him cover his face with his hands, a steady blush forming. Oh this wasn’t like Harry at all. 

“Harry, you alright mate?” Ron whispered, leaning in towards Harry, concern evident in his voice. 

“I’m absolutely perfect,” Harry mumbled, forcing himself to cool off. 

“Yeah you bloody well look it,” Ron bit back gently, sniggering softly between the two of them. Harry couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. He appreciated his friends to no end. He just wished he could vent to them about this entire Malfoy nonsense. But it was better kept as a secret. No public outcry in a secret. 

Still, it was fun to think about from time to time; Malfoy’s hair, his hands, his lips, they were all there in the recesses of Harry’s consciousness. He needed to talk to him, and for this, a plan was needed. 

///  
Draco’s head was not with him. Not in the figurative way, at least. No, Draco’s head was with a small strip of paper in the back of one of his books with a name written on it. Lysandra. Who was she? He’d already forgotten what she looked like, but he’d never be able to forget the feelings she’d caused. How could anyone or anything make him feel so hopeless and so inspired all at once? 

He breathed out curtly through his nose, trying to bring himself back into the moment at hand. Right. He had been walking with his friends, but it appeared as though he’d lagged behind whilst in thought. His friends weren’t anywhere in sight. 

Cursing quietly, Draco continued forward at a faster pace, his footsteps echoing with force throughout the now empty hall. He was thinking about how ridiculous he had been for spending this much time brooding about a bloody name, when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and yank him into a dark room. He did not succeed in suppressing a yelp. 

Draco clumsily crashed into an empty table, scattering his things. He drew his wand on instinct, fury and self-preservation fueling him. It was so dark in there, whoever grabbed him must have shut the door. His breathing was labored as adrenaline pumped through his system. 

“Lumos!” he shouted, and a pool of gentle white light poured out of the tip of his wand, only to illuminate the face of Potter, who was shielding his eyes. 

Draco wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loudly that he’d never be able to speak again. Fucking Harry fucking Potter. Draco had never wanted to punch the glasses off of someone’s face more.   
“What the fuck is this, Potter?” the blond hissed, seething as his wand stayed steadily pointed at Potter. 

Potter put up his hands in a gesture of surrender, wincing at the harshness of the light in his eyes. 

“Frighten you did I, Malfoy?” the Gryffindor replied coolly, soaking in Draco’s anger like a sponge. 

Draco took a moment to catch his breath before he bothered to reply. With the adrenaline rapidly leaving his body, he suddenly felt very tired, and so leaned himself against the table he crashed into. He really wished this wouldn’t become a regular occurrence with the Boy Who Lived. The bastard. 

“What do you want?” The words were cold but tired, dry like a stone. Potter was no doubt grateful when Draco leaned against the table and lowered the impaling brightness that his wand exuded.   
“You were watching me the other day, yeah? When I was practicing quidditch.” 

Draco froze at the words dripping with absolution and certainty that had just come from Potter’s mouth. How could he have possibly known? No one had been there, no one had seen him! He was completely alone on a stone bench hidden in the brush somewhere near the Herbology classroom. Draco quickly collected himself. 

“Why on earth would I be watching your quidditch practice? And where could I have watched it in stealth, anyway?” 

“Come off it, Malfoy, I know you were watching me. Neville saw you on the bench near the Herbology classroom and he said that you never took your eyes off of me.” 

“Must’ve been someone else the idiot mistook for me. I’m not the only blond Slytherin, you know,” Draco sniffed, successfully covering up his panic. This is something that could never be discovered. Not by anyone, but especially not by someone like Longbottom. 

Potter wouldn’t give up though, “No Malfoy, he saw you. Why were you there? Why were you watching me? I thought I didn’t exist to you anymore.”

“Feeling bold are you? Are you finished?” Draco’s words were solid and stone, excluding as much emotion as he could. He almost always did it well. 

“You can’t deny it!”

“Have you ever considered that perhaps Longbottom was lying to you?”

“My friends wouldn’t lie to me, Malfoy. They’re not like yours.” Potter was slowly walking closer to Draco, who was hyper aware of the other boy’s movements. 

“You can never be sure though, can you?” Both boys’ voices were getting softer, the heat of anger and tension leaving them. 

“I’m sure. My friends don’t lie,” the words were like clouds as they left Potter’s lips, and Draco felt them. Potter was now right in front of him. 

“That just means you’ll get hurt all the more once they do lie,” Draco sighed as Potter raised a hand as if to cup the blond’s cheek. He wanted so badly to lean into the touch, his heart swelling. Why did it have to be like this? Why did everything have to hurt?

“Why were you watching me?” Potter whispered against Draco’s lips. 

“I wasn’t,” Draco spoke softly, “Not really. I just wanted to be alone, and you just so happened to be in the middle of quidditch practice. I may have absentmindedly followed you with my eyes but… I didn’t plan on watching you.” 

“Oh.” Potter gingerly pulled back. Draco felt as though he had gotten the answer wrong to a question he didn’t even know was being asked. 

Devilishly, Draco smirked as he responded, “Oh? What, Potter, were you hoping that I had some sinister motive?” Even in the dark the blond could tell that the other boy was beginning to blush. 

“W-what? Don’t be absurd! I just had to make sure you weren’t up to something like spying on me for Umbridge or something….” The words tapered off as both boys looked at each other intently. Draco’s grey eyes were alight with mischief. 

“Umbridge again, hm? When will you get it through your thick skull, Potter? I’m not a puppet for that damn woman. But that’s beside the point, isn’t it?” It felt as though a cat was circling a mouse, dangerous. Draco continued:

“You just wanted to see me again, didn’t you?” It was Draco’s turn now. He got up and walked close to Harry, causing the other boy to shiver as he stumbled back. 

“All it takes is a couple of sentences about me to have you grabbing me and shoving me into empty classrooms. Are you really that desperate for my attention, Potter?” The Slytherin knew he was being cunning, seeming like a wildcat winding up to pounce. He continued to walk towards Potter until he had the black-haired boy pinned against the wall. His wand was the only source of light as it rested forgotten in Draco’s hand. 

Harry was having trouble finding the words to direct back at Malfoy, every comeback getting stuck in his throat as if it was too large. He tried to swallow, but found that his mouth was exceptionally dry. Since the only light in the room came from Malfoy’s wand, the shadows on the blond’s face were especially harsh and made it seem as though Harry was looking into the grey, steely eyes of a predator. Backing up still, he was suddenly stopped and realized that he’d hit the wall. No where else to run. 

“Really Potter, don’t you think that’s a bit pitiful, hm?” Malfoy’s words were incandescently soft as his face got closer and closer to Harry’s. Harry’s lips were parted and his breathing haggard as Malfoy’s face moved closer to his. 

“It’s quite pathetic, actually,” Malfoy whispered against Harry’s lips, and Harry had to stop himself from whimpering. He licked his lips and Malfoy’s eyes darted down to steal a look at them before coming back up into Harry’s eyes. 

Slowly, as if testing the hot water of a bath, Malfoy brushed his lips against Harry’s. Harry, being rather impatient with things, grabbed a hold of the back of Malfoy’s head and forced him to deepen the kiss. Their lips locked and tangled in a mess of panting and saliva. 

Malfoy growled when Harry broke the kiss and started to work on Malfoy’s neck, nipping and kissing down to the nape. Malfoy ground his stiffening member into Harry’s front, causing the black-haired boy’s breath to hitch. Harry put a knee gently in-between Malfoy’s legs, allowing for them to be closer where it really counted. Malfoy grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair and pulled him back from his neck, almost causing the boy to cry out; he wouldn’t have had the chance anyway when Malfoy reclaimed his lips. 

Their heated fumblings in the dark continued as Malfoy dropped his wand to the ground and they were left in total black. Somehow, Malfoy’s hand had found its way into Harry’s pants and was stroking his member. Harry was practically mewling, quietly begging Malfoy to keep going. 

“Don’t stop,” Harry whispered, “Almost… Draco I’m almost….” He came with a soft gasp, releasing into Malfoy’s hand. The blond made a tut of disgruntlement at this before bending down and picking up his wand to perform a quick cleaning spell. 

Harry was still panting quietly when the spell was complete, buttoning up his pants up. 

“Lumos,” Malfoy commanded, and once again they had light. Harry saw that there was a tired look in Malfoy’s eyes, but before he could comment on it, Draco continued: 

“I don’t want to do this any more,” he deadpanned. Harry looked at him incredulously. 

“ ‘This’?” Harry asked, even though he knew it was a stupid question. Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, this,” he gestured between himself and Harry, “It will go nowhere. Fast. And you know it.”

Harry scoffed, “We’re just fooling around Malfoy.”

“Are we though, Potter? Do you ever ‘just’ do anything?” He got close to Harry once again, but this time it felt different. This time it felt more menacing, “I’ve known you for a while now, Potter and I can say this with certainty: You will try to make something out of this. There is nothing here. Nothing.”

“Well there’s obviously not nothing-” 

“Nothing, Potter!! Can’t you see it? I want nothing to do with you. This. Whatever this is. It needs to stop.”

///  
Draco thought about how soft Potter’s lips were instead of listening to the lecture he was supposed to be attuned to. He thought about how soft they were, and how he was going to miss them. Surely that was the last time that something like that would happen. 

He had to stop himself from sighing dejectedly at the thought. It just wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth it. Christmas was fast approaching, and Draco felt as though nothing would be the same after the break. He had a gut feeling that something was going to happen that would change things. He had to nip whatever this was with Potter in the bud. Before they did something irreversible. 

Not like that was going particularly easily. Potter was so incredibly stubborn when it came to getting the things he wanted. Draco tried to ignore the implications that this meant he was something Potter wanted, but that was impossible. 

He opened up the book he was supposed to be taking notes out of, and out fell the strip of paper with the name ‘Lysandra’ written on it. Draco hummed quietly, running a finger over the hastily scribbled lettering. What could it mean? The thought of the person behind the name sent warmth blooming throughout his core. He thought back to the dream that he’d had, the dream that gave him the name written down. He just knew that she had something to do with Potter. The thought made him ache, because if she had something to do with him, then Draco would probably never encounter her. Even though the thought of never seeing her again troubled him greatly, his face remained impassive. 

The lesson ended shortly thereafter and the students around him stood in a buzz, anxious to leave the room. Chief among them were his friends, who were already talking about what their plans were for winter break. 

“My parents are taking the family to Paris for Christmas,” Pansy said, puffing out her chest with pride, “I can’t wait to see what it looks like covered in snow.” 

“Your parents are always off traveling. Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Theo asked. 

“Not at all, you’re just jealous that you never get to go anywhere,” Pansy snarked back, gathering her things and standing up. Draco followed suit, and wondered how Paris would be at Christmas time. He’d been to Paris plenty of times with his family, but never during Christmas. 

Draco and his friends went on to the great hall for lunch, sitting down with the rest of the Slytherins. The table was bustling with energy, everyone excited for winter break to commence. It was only a week and a half away, after all. Kids all over were chattering about what they were expecting to do for the break, but Draco deigned to tune most of them out in favor of his own thoughts. Potter would probably be staying there at the castle for Christmas, it seemed as if he always did. Not that it mattered to Draco. If he didn’t come home for the holiday, then his mother would be heartbroken. How did his thoughts always return to Potter?

He sighed into his food, chewing without actually tasting anything. Absentmindedly, his eyes wandered over to the Gryffindor table, searching for a mop of black hair. He found it with no problem and looked at Harry Potter wistfully, forgetting momentarily about how he vowed that he was done messing around with him. 

Draco thought about all the intimate situations that he had been in with Potter over the term so far, and blushed. He forgot that he was still staring at the object of his affection, and when Potter turned to face him, Draco immediately turned away, as if he’d been burned. Great. Now he was giving the Gryffindor unnecessary ideas. Just great. 

“Draco, is that a blush I see on your face?” Pansy asked, the mirth dripping from her voice. 

The blond cleared his throat, trying to save the dignity that he had. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pansy, it’s just bloody hot in here, that’s all.” 

She hummed as if she didn’t believe him, but shrugged and stretched, turning to talk to Silas Hydra, a Slyterin in the seventh year. Draco said a silent prayer of relief that for once the girl didn’t pry; she must’ve been preoccupied with Silas. All the better. 

With lunch coming to an end, Draco decided it was best if he went ahead and left the mess hall, unaware of a shaggy-haired Gryffindor that thought it necessary to follow him. He turned in the hallway, making his way towards his next class, which happened to be herbology, when he was grabbed from behind by the wrist. 

The Slytherin whirled around, turning to see exactly whom he expected to see: Harry bleeding Potter. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco asked, exasperated. His eyes flittered around nervously, anxious that someone would see them and get suspicious. 

“I want you to explain,” Potter responded, crossing his arms and standing in a contrapasso manner. 

“Explain what?”

“Explain what you meant when you said you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“What do you think it meant? It means that I want nothing more to do with you. We’ve had our fun, it was a delight Potter, it really was, but it’s over. You need to move on because it won’t happen again.”  
Potter let go of Draco’s hand, but didn’t step back. He looked at him with hard emerald green eyes, eyes that seemed to scorch the soul of the Slytherin. He huffed, blowing his bangs up as he did so, and Draco was able to catch a fleeting glimpse of the famous scar. He looked as though he wanted so badly to give Draco a piece of his mind, but was having a difficult time finding the words. 

Draco chuckled darkly, “Goodbye, Potter,” he said and turned to leave. But before he could, Potter yanked him around and slammed his lips into the Slytherin’s, their teeth clashing together. 

The blond made a muffled noise of utter surprise, his pale eyes going wide. As soon as he registered what was happening, he shoved Potter off of him, wiping away at his mouth as he did so. Disdain filled his eyes as he glared at the other boy, whose eyes were wide with shock at what he’d just done. 

“I said,” Draco started, “Goodbye, Potter.” He spat the surname of his nemesis with venom, his expression hardening into one of frightened hatred. What if someone had seen them? Potter was entirely too careless. Disgraceful. 

As he turned to go again, Potter called out to him. 

“Malfoy! Malfoy, wait!” But Draco would have none of it, and he left Harry Potter behind.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to go back and edit some parts of this chapter, since I wasn't real happy with it. Should be fine now, for the time being. Thanks.


End file.
